Columbia

You'll find it where wisteria twines,
Where ivy branches root and wind,
Where dogwoods blossom on the hill.
You'll find it where September swelters--
Winter's season there seems but a week,
Since March begins the sultry spring.
The April breezes warm the grass,
And drowsy students bask in suns of May.

The lethargy of rising sap
Affects us longer there.
Our neighbors slow their evening stroll
To chat with other neighbors on the lawn.
Young mothers pass with babes on arm,
While we remember baby prams
A short time back that carried them.

We rock in rocking chairs or in the swings
That make a springtime front porch breeze.
While women sew or knit,
Our men draw smoke or chew and spit.
We talk the price of cotton or of butterbeans,
Mrs. Johnson's patchwork quilt,
The preacher's words, or how Mrs. Wilkins sang;
And no one fails to wander off a bit--
To dream or pray or breathe a sigh or sit
Out under dogwood blossoms in the yard.
But best of all, the April breeze surrounds!
She breathes her sweetness from the ground,
Her freshness from the pines;
And time moves slow.
It is a land of dreams.

Copyright 2006 by M. David Orr, a native of Columbia, S.C.