Southern Nights - smooth as silver
soft as ash and heavy as black velvet
or a colored man's skin

crickets form an earthly orchestra
creating a wall of sound to wrap around
the artful Daisy Dukes and their Bos

jars give off the distinctive smell of
a childhood spent barefoot and wild,
as fireflies struggle against glass they can't begin to comprehend

mothers, uncles, cousins, family sits on the porch
a scene out of the past
everyone's visitin' , everything is black and white

this moment, this sense of belonging
is fading slow, has been ever since Sherman
marched to the sea and failed to fall in

we want no New South - the old one worked just fine
And everybody knows
you don't fix it if it ain't broke