writing

Tennessee Retreat

Creaky squeals make her smile.

Curled up in the front porch swing.

A blanket wrapped around tight.

A hot tea warms her chilled hands.

Rain pings on the tin roof.

And petrichor fills the air.

The mountains are blue and grey.

The green gives way to the haze.

Why do we worry and scurry about?

Isn’t this really the way to live?

2 thoughts on “Tennessee Retreat

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