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Southern Summer Evenings
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Sitting on the porch after
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a hot, humid summer day
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rocking
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on the swing made for two.
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My mother's feet cooling
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their tired selves off in
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a pot of well water.
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A bowl sits in our laps
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filled with crisp green beans
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farmer's style
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no chemicals
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rich full-bodied fleshy vegetables
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grown from mother nature's
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natural womb.
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The ends broken off,
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the full fleshy green beans
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being prepared for a southern meal
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in a farm house kitchen
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coal furnaces
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in the center of each room,
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not needed on a 105 degree day.
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My mother - looking at me
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me looking at her - each
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a reflection of the other
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in a life mirror.
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Snap. Snap. Snap.
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"Gingy" she says as we continue
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rocking
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the 85 degree breeze a refuge
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from the controlling heat.
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My mother
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