Mississippi Heart

 
Dragonflies and fire-flies glide softly on the breeze;
listening to the willows sing that Southern siren dream.

 Down where life is simple, sunbeams dancing through the trees,
eagles soar above and fishes dance into the deep. 

Dusty cotton fields that roll, into those red clay hills ,
people warm and gentle; in a place where time stands still.

This place is Mississippi. Her name makes our bloods run deep.
Sheís seen her share of sorrows, and those ghosts still haunt our dreams.

 But those of us that know her feel a stir deep in our hearts.
Some leave her for a time but nothing heals that empty heart.

 They long to smell the freshness, from a slow and drenching rain;
and watch as flowers lift their heads to Godís amazing grace.

 Pink lightening in the summer brings a swelter to the heat.
But cooling breezes come and soon the air is sweet with peace.

 Thereís something thatís pure magic in my Mississippi home.
As I sit and watch the evening slide into my tired soul.

 I watch the moon rise slowly, dripping diamonds as she goes.
And soon my head is fuzzy and itís off to bed I go.

 Above the sky is twinkling, turning daytime into night,
as I await the new day that will bring the morning light.

                                                                                                                    Joyce Burns
                                                                                                                        November 2010