Sitters of Porches

Sitters of Porches

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There is a quality that comes with being Southern that can only be understood if you live here.  What seems strange to the rest of the world carries here a feeling of warm-heartedness and familiarity that I value deep in my soul.  There is one place that has always seemed to be the incubator of Southern spirit.  Whether it be the start of a song, the concocting of a tale or shelling of a pea, the front porch of the Southern home has always been a sanctuary.  Here is my ode to those who have perfected the art of sitting on the porch.image

 

Staring out across the road

Sits the lord of the manor like a toad

Watching travelers passing by

Swatting at the pesky fly

 

I see him in the evening as I pass

A perpetual rock of sedentary mass

I nod my head to show respect

But engrossed in his squatting, it has no effect

 

It seems he has perched on his throne there for years

As life has passed by with the sweat and the tears

This watchful centurion has kept his post

His duty would have been failed by mostimage

Up the road and down I roll each day

Trying to make it in my own way

I will press on, although I am starting to see

That a sitter of porches I wish to be

 

So toil on if you must, break your back every day

I am studying from afar a simpler way

My chair is picked out to rock all day long

All hail the porch sitter, his way can’t be wrong

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