Sweet Southern Security
Sweet Southern Security
Sprawling shady oak trees, tall slender
pine trees with jutting needles, and broad whispering
magnolia trees towering above as the bright moonlight
filters through their waving restless limbs and leaves,
mirroring the silvery liquid mercury motions
of the warm Atlantic Ocean.
The sweet intoxication of the
aromatic floral vapors of gardenia
and magnolia fusing with the spicy
scent of pine sap from a fallen limb,
calms my soul and brings me peace,
as a brisk wind ruffles through my hair.
Slowly rocking in an old knotty pine rocker,
back and forth, sipping a smooth glass of bourbon
in an introspective state of mind, gazing at the
dancing motions of the liquid waves as a rush of
warmth from the bourbon courses through my veins.
Protective Liberty, the black Great Dane,
barks at the cars buzzing by her street,
warning them to get the hell away,
far from her gate, her house, her family.
Chitter-chatter of the crickets,
and the throaty croaking pleas of the restless frogs
in the neighboring forest pond, brings ambiance to this
southern spring evening.
The tranquility of this hypnotic setting
and the feeling of security from this old
clapboard cottage that wraps around
me like a tattered family quilt,
takes me back to the security of the home that I
left only a few years ago.
Taking this moment alone to acknowledge
all that I lost the day I left my home, reflecting on
how much grieving that day’s caused me since having
to walk away from a life I truly loved
and enjoyed. Being here tonight brings me hope
that one day I’ll find my sense of security again.
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