Plantation Party Under Southern Skies

The sun dips low. The fields still hum. Shadows stretch,

the night has come. Cornstalks sway like they're in the

know. Fireflies dancing, putting on a show. It's a plantation

party. Let the lanterns glow. Feet stomping dirt, feel the rhythm

flow. Raise your voice high, let the old songs

fly. Underneath this southern sky. Mason jars clink, filled to the

brim. Laughter spills out, a moonlight hymn. The pine trees whisper

secrets they keep, while the crickets sing us all to sleep. Hands clap,