When her stomach is unsettled,
Momma must stay at home.
When Summer issues his stern command,
Then we will swelter in hot weather.
When one grandson arrives,
He must walk the boundaries
Of the property of the camp,
Greeting the young trees
And mourning the ones that have fallen.
When feet approach the pond,
Then a fishing pole will be in the hand.
When the call to bless the food and family comes,
. . .
The rest is at https://www.reckonin.com/walt-garlington/the-tyrants-of-strong-arkansas-poetry.
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Holy Ælfred the Great, King of England, South Patron, pray for us sinners at the Souð, unworthy though we are!
Anathema to the Union!
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