A Song of the South

And as my eyes do lift open softly

bathing the world in my sight,

While the bleary world passes

The car, and I see the most 

Beauty offered by the south land.

Glimmering golden fields lit so brightly

The sun not yet at full mast

Wind bends  grain’s tips of whiteness

Grain the color of well cooked toast

Cooked carefully by God’s hand

A little one dressed semi properly 

Falls on her hands, does not cry

But crawls quick in the grasses

And grabs the dog’s tail, almost

As mom watches from’a porch fan.

Now the old chapel’s door opens fully

Out walks pastor Brown, called Mike

Going to have his breakfast,

Getting in the truck with rust,

And driving to Karie and Stan’s

The whippoorwills whistle somewhere faintly,

As deer swim in dim moonlight 

The trees creak, the creek babbles

But the moon stands out foremost

Cleaner than on any other sand.

And now you might just see the south partially,

 The south through my eyes you might

And love it’s beautiful fences

And love it’s delicious toast

Love the beauty if you can.