Thursday, April 1, 2010

A Dewy New

"Planted in the house of the LORD, they will flourish in the courts of our God. They will still bear fruit in old age,they will stay fresh and green" Psalm 92:13-14

Quiet on a porch the size of my NY abode.

And there's something 'bout the Southland in the springtime
Where the waters flow with confidence and reason
Though I miss her when I'm gone it won't ever be too long
Till I'm home again to spend my favorite season
When God made me born a yankee he was teasin'
There's no place like home and none more pleasin'
Than the Southland in the springtime

In Georgia nights are softer than a whisper
Beneath a quilt somebody's mother made by hand
With the farmland like a tapestry passed down through generations

And the peach trees stitched across the land
There'll be cider up near Helen off the roadside
And boiled peanuts in a bag to warm your fingers
And the smoke from the chimneys meets its maker in the sky
With a song that winter wrote whose melody lingers. IG

And the Bradford Pears, White Cherry Blossoms, Golden Forsythia, and Confederate Jasmine mesmerize your heart and mind leading you back to your roots.
Everyday with every worn out breath this Georgia Pine air is renewing my spirit and leading me back here soon.

April Fools.

SShhh, can you hear the stress melting?

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