Slice of the South

Florida maple leaves dangle in slight puffs of breeze.

A dog, under the porch, scratches at his fleas.

It’s evening time in the south,

and the humidity is high, no doubt.

Sweet tea is shared all around,

worries needn’t be expressed or found.

There are lots of lemon slices for the tea and quick wit,

while the extended family rock and sit.

A tractor rests in front, as if it was yard art;

there are oranges, freshly picked, resting in a wooden cart.

Aunt Ethel holds a ball of tightly wrapped yarn,

Uncle Ed holds a pitchfork from the farm.

The front porch is a stress-free stage,

where everyone is carefree and never acting their age.

The children are covered in dirt from head to toe,

they are running willy-nilly, it’s all part of the show.

They leap up on hay bales, balancing, seeing how high they can go.

Fanny and Mac are having another baby soon,

this will be their third baby boon.

Someone pulls out a harmonica to play,

and the people all bob and sway.