Burning daylight

 Burning Daylight

John Clare Stokes 

Come Saturday September mornings 

When the land begins the autumn cool

The goldenrod on roadsides is seen growing

Persimmon on the tree to sweet turning

Faintly within there is this calling

To journey far into the Gum Swamp pines

Past the Sanderson fork beyond the Ocean Pond

On past the Taylor grocery store break

Far, far over the St Mary’s river into Moniac

Where the Nehi streams flow forever amber

You can reach right up and pluck

A moon pie from the South Georgia sky

Sit and stare lovingly into her snaggletooth eyes

Hear her say, “where you been all my days?”

And you reply, “Burning daylight!

Burning daylight, my darling.

Now here in Moniac I can die.”