Retreat From the Summer Heat

On a hot summer afternoon,

one must retreat to that special place,

behind closed shutters,

near the secretive balconied windows,

somewhere under a high ceiling,

with slow-turning fans...

In the distance,

I hear a splashing fountain

and the strands of a lone violin.

I smell the scent of the sweet olive tree,

just beneath the window...

I see the draping Spanish Moss,

ever so elegant...suspended in Southern time...

Deep in the heart of the old South.

My South...

My home...

Blessings

*****Yaya*****