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Beneath the maple tree,
Daddy cuts a watermelon,
Mama shakes salt.

In the Matheson Cove,
a Fourth of July picnic;
beneath the maple tree.

Ma and Grandaddy waiting,
Uncle Ralph roasting hotdogs;
Daddy cuts a watermelon.

The cousins spit seeds,
Harold swimming in Hyatt-Mill Creek;
Mama shakes salt.

The wagon trail
curving over mountain trails.
Fireworks erupt!
           --Brenda Kay Ledford

This poem was published in "West End Poets Newsletter," June/July/August 2016

Granddaddy Bob Ledford and Grandma Minnie Matheson Ledford.


Susie Swanson said…
Love this one Brenda and Congrats on the publishing. Hope you have a nice 4th.
Glenda Beall said…
Love the poem and the photo, Brenda Kay. That big old sunflower with the bee is pretty, also.
I love it! My grandfather always planted watermelons for us on his farm. They were the best I've ever tasted!
Connie said…
Lovely poem celebrating a summer picnic, Brenda. I love your sunflower photo in your header too--so pretty!
magnoliasntea said…
Hi Brenda! I love your Picnic poem. And I really love the "Mama shakes salt." part.
Years ago when we were living in Germany, far away from our beloved South, I was teaching some friends to how to use a sewing machine. After a while we took a break, and I served everyone ice cold watermelon. One gal saw me reach for the salt shaker and said, "I hope you're not one of those sickies that put salt on their watermelon." O.O Well then, the silence in that room was as thick as refrigerated peanut butter. I was surprised but replied, "I hope you're not one of those sickies that don't." Everyone laughed and enjoyed the melon, some with salt, some without salt. I like mine good and salty. ;)
I hope you and your mama have a wonderful Independence Day celebration.
Sweet memories...and wonderful poetry.

LOVE the huge sunflower greeting us as we open you blog.
TexWisGirl said…
sweet memories of simpler days. :)
Janet, said…
Hi Brenda. Enjoyed the poem and love watermelon. We bought a huge one today. Can't wait to bite into it.

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The Blue Ridge Mountains
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ancient; carved from granite;
patchwork farms dot the cove.

Cornfields sway like ripples
in the honeysuckle wind,
Queen Anne's lace spins
doilies on the banks

welcoming me to the old homeplace.
Granddaddy's old grey barn
painted with a Lone Star quilt,
a raincrow performs the coda
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The gravel road forks,
Hyatt-Mill Creek gurgles
over moss-covered rocks.
A footbridge shimmies,

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of Shewbird Mountain;
I savor the sweet memories.
                   --Brenda Kay Ledford

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Her story is about her nephew who served two tours of duty in Iraq.  She had a dream that angels were protecting him and wrote a story about her vision.  It was included in both the magazine and anthology. 

The Lord did in fact protect John and he got home to America. He was called to preach and is now attending divinity school.

God does great things!

His grandfather was also a Southern Baptist minister for 40 years.  We are praying God will lead John in the field where it's His will to use him for God's glory.  We appreciate very much the prayers of our blogg…