Southern Night

Sitting at night under the Southern sky with Spanish moss dripping over head my skin sticky with the dampness of heat And the air glowing silver with the moons secrets, its easy to fall trance to the nights own lullaby. To fall in love the legacy of the land thats nurtured me. To forget the frigidness of winter eves when we huddled with space heaters and prayed for the ache to stop. The sun is timeless. It soaks into our bones and melts our drive, It radiates long after from the forest floor giving life to song of cicadas, this chant of eons celebrating the toils of all our struggles. Reminders in the quiet of night of the infinite cycle of those stars, and our smallness in the scale of them.