FROM THE “SAVANNAH IDYL” COLLECTION<\/p>\n
I rest sometimes.
\nI\u2019m not old,
\nI just rest and let the day have itself.
\nUp north no one stops,
\nfeels the moss,
\nlets time go by under their fingers.
\nHow does life go on with them?
\nWhistling past a window.<\/p>\n
The South learned its lesson
\na long time ago.
\nWhen it almost died.
\nWhen the dead outnumbered everybody alive.
\nWhen it seemed only the children were left
\nand the town took a nap in the afternoon
\nto let the mothers grieve.<\/p>\n
I suppose then it became a habit to stop,
\nsit on the stoop,
\ntalk to one another.
\nPlay checkers if it so sufficed,
\nor just let yourself fill with words,
\nargue with your Daddy,
\nremember your Mama,
\nand watch flowers bloom at your feet.<\/p>\n
Something to admire in the afternoon.
\nTo see how the world lives.
\nHow it lets go and becomes pretty.
\nGets out of the way.
\nLets people go past and say to yourself,
\nwhen she was a girl she was a sunflower.
\nEven on rainy days she shone.
\nNow she\u2019s a cloud with hair all silver.
\nI\u2019ll ask her sometime how her brother\u2019s doing,
\nand maybe
\nwe\u2019ll sit and enjoy Savannah,
\nlike two old tombstones flirting with
\neach other.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
FROM THE “SAVANNAH IDYL” COLLECTION I rest sometimes. I\u2019m not old, I just rest and let the day have itself. Up north no one stops,…<\/p>\n