Family Reunion on the Farm
There is a long dirt road,
In the corner of a county, in the woods of Alabama
And on summer days, in twilight's haze
Ghost rise from their graves.
In the corner of a county, in the woods of Alabama
And on summer days, in twilight's haze
Ghost rise from their graves.
On caloric evenings
We sip lemonade, listening with drooping eyes.
Past dreams are told from wrinkled brows
Faith, hope and wisdom flow.
The road winds through
Pine and clay, sand and Catawba trees
From past to now, from now beyond,
From father to son and family.
It bends, it snakes, sometimes it waits
For the traveler to return.
Once engrained red, sandy clay
Is for what your soul will yearn.
Published by theBarefoot
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5 Comments
Post a CommentWell Randy I love your poem I don't know if it should be here or not but it is beautiful and very poetic. Maybe you should write more, and maybe you DO!! and I just don't know it.
Thank you. For reminding me of late summer afternoons, surrounded by cousins and aunts and uncles and relatives I didn't even know, in fields outside Peru, Indiana. And, my belly so full of corn on the cob and grandma's weird jello glop. Nicely done.
A most definite yes from those of us who understand exactly what you're talking about! Beautiful words, absolutely beautiful!
I thought "caloric evenings" caught the mood of the post-feast malaise and the heat of the southern afternoon. No?
Alabama in it's glory; the land of our fathers, the binds of family, and the life-blood of red clay that fuels many a child's imaginations and wonders.