My South

My South is
sitting in the backyard as the night falls
cold drink in my hand
the laughter of friends
hearing the children scream and play in the dark
chasing the first lightning bugs


My South is
the smell of charcoal and steaks on the grill.
Dogs barking warnings to 
other dogs walking thier masters around the block.
Wagging tails
Secretly wanting to play


My South is
soft warm air surrounding me
crickets chrip,tree frogs sing
and suddenly,
a heady scent of honeysuckle
here and then gone.