Sunday, April 10, 2011


The sun hung pregnant heavy
Over the Tennessee mountains
Popsicle orange
In a sky that was so blue
It hurt to look away.

Along the side
Of the busy road
Folks sat on porches
Fanning themselves
Not wantin' to go in
To cold conditioned air
Just yet.

A doe pants slowly
As travelers hurl by
With windows rolled
Radios blaring
Speakers thumpin'
To the glorious day
The Creator had made
Just for them

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