Ode to a Georgia Spring

In springtime there, the dogwood rides, a cavalry in white. And red-bud captains, scarlet cloaked, are flanked on left and right. ‘Tis fleetingly those flowered troops So arrogant; so gay Ride up and ore the Georgian hills And suddenly away.      James D. McCollum, Sr.

2016-11-13T21:09:41+00:00March 21st, 2012|
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