Sweet Tea Sunset

 

The sun dips low, a honeyed glow,
Paintin’ gold where the creek does flow,
A lazy ribbon through the land,
Carvin’ soft with a gentle hand.
That big ol’ oak stands proud and tall,
Roots run deep, it’s seen it all,
Spreadin’ shade where the clover grows,
A quilt of green ‘neath evenin’s close.

The porch creaks soft with every sway,
A rocker hummin’ the end of day,
Sweet tea sweats in a mason jar,
Cool and smooth ‘gainst the heat’s old scar.
Breezes dance through the fields out wide,
Whisperin’ secrets the South can’t hide,
Fireflies blink like stars come near,
A twilight song so pure and clear.

The sky’s a canvas, pink and flame,
Sunset callin’ the oak by name,
Its branches reach like arms to hold,
This quiet world of tales untold.
The clover bends with the weight of dew,
Reflectin’ light in a emerald hue,
While the creek just murmurs, slow and sweet,
A lullaby where the earth and water meet.

That porch sits still, a sacred spot,
Where time unwinds and cares forgot,
Tea so cold it kisses the soul,
A Southern balm to make ya whole.
The oak keeps watch as the night rolls in,
Shadows stretch where the day’s been,
And in this hush, so wild and free,
The South sings soft its poetry.