Springtime In The South
Softly muted…I can hear them...
even though...the voices be dim...
in the Carolina pines...mustering and forming lines
A madman is on his way…setting the landscape ablaze
…they are hurrying…not far away…just days
I can almost see them through the battle haze
...heading for down Georgia way
Rumblings are the sounds of cannon fire...
like low thunder from miles away
…so very ominous and full of ire
Glimpses of uniforms...blue and gray
...Old battle sounds still in the wind
Listen and you can hear them again
Old cotton fields still cry out
Can you sense their freedom shout...
muted by one hundred plus years...
still the wind carries all their tears...
crying 'remember us'…into sensitive ears
...from a time...so harsh by men…to men
that the sounds of battle are still embedded
...not only in the wind…but in the very land
©Faye Sizemore 3/27/04
Webmaster: Thurman P. Woodfork
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