I am making my way toward the island’s main house from the boat landing. Having some distance to go, and these old legs growing tired, I find myself drawn to that table and those chairs to my right. They are calling to me from the cool of the shade of the meandering branches of those old oaks, and I fancy they have been waiting patiently for my weary passing along this dusty path this hot and humid dog-day Georgia afternoon.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s