Country Colored Memories
Every tree is its own story
Standing for decades void of glory
Swaying gently in the breeze
Bracing for winters freeze
Year after year, seasons change
Limbs and branches rearranged
Only when it’s cut for timber
counting rings to remember
How tall and luxuriant it used to stand
Languishing seasons with no helping hands
Necessary for the air we breath
Oxygen, storing carbon released through leaves
Provides food and shelter; beauty brings
Life would be difficult if trees were not a thing.
There’s something to be said about the solitude of early morning hoursAs you sit and watch the sun and morning glories openly flower The birds are talking about it just as wellThey are whistling a happy tune, can’t you tell...
The only time I remember my mama came to our creek Was because she heard her girls and my cousin were involved in a streak The truth of the matter was we were skinny dipping But mostly throwing mud at...
There was never any harm or cause for alarm When mama held us in the crook of her arm The most secure place we could ever be Was in her arms when we were small babies Mama always had a...
The man puts his hand to the plough He’ll make a living somehow His family depends on him Every season to season The man puts his hand...