Azelias are giants. Timber is King.
God has a house on every corner.
Banjos are banging. The mandolins sing.
Seems mother nature has nearly torn her
Skirt on a blackberry bush and the figs
Hang heavy out where the blueberry hedge
Finally gives way. Pecan tree grows big,
And I ain’t seen a peach grow but on the ledge
That cobbler smells great. But why let it cool?
It’ll melt ice cream like the sun melts snow
It’ll sweet you hard. It’ll make you drool.
Now don’t go saying I didn’t say so.
Low country outland, shrimp swim in the grits.
Fish stew, witches’ brew, give a taste bud fits.
Rev. Joel Tucker's Blog 