In the Southland of My Youth

The fall birds sing a sweet refrain, The melodies from my youth Surge forth to bind me to the land. The darkened trail by the pasture vale Comes into view as the leaves pass through On their mystery tour to incase the dew. The small fish pond in the foggy air Is silent and still, no waves to dispel The smell embraced in honeysuckle lace Rises entwined with memories fair. The pine trees grow tall and slender And let their needles caress The ground dusty and dry. The sun slowly rises with few surprises. I'll plow my acres today And thank The God Who gave them to me.