A Map Dot in Georgia

Boiled peanuts, sweet peaches and cold snow cones,

lazy days with a book under pine trees,

catfish stew, slow-cooked, by men in the zone,

reunions and cousins and skinned-up knees.

🍑

The family farm has not changed a bit.

Solid red clay on bare feet feels like home.

Fireworks and tall tales, in truck beds we sit.

Family, always, though we all may roam.

🍑

A cold watermelon, low-country broil,

volleyball, tag, and some good-natured fun.

Generations before us toiled this soil,

so that we can frolic, play in the sun.

🍑

Summers may end and relatives may part,

but those Georgia days live on in my heart.