Georgia Backroads
By Bonnie Annis
My soul resides under crumbling red clay, tangled muscadine vines, and the comforting arms of gnarled live oak trees.
It feels like home to me.
Dusty dirt roads, weathered fence posts, and spiky barbed wire,
Fat grazing cows and lush green grass,
Clapboard houses with peeling white paint, numbered mailboxes all in a row,
Beat up cars, and sturdy porch swings.
No place I’d rather be.
Simple life, simpler times.
Everything, slow and easy.
Georgia backroads, with secrets deep and wide.
Rusty tin silos, round baled hay, shoulder deep corn fields, and buzzards flying high
Azure skies and linen white clouds – sights treasured and familiar.
Dip me in sun-kissed watermelon bursting with sweetness.
Serenade me with soft buzzing bees, banjo twanging frogs, and a cool gentle breeze.
Wrap me in nightingale song.
Georgia, sweet Georgia, my forever home.
NCM