A Note, From the Cotton Fields of Texas to the Land of the Free
I see ebony on ivory. I see midnight on daylight. I see sweet black hands plucking stark white fiber, in my fields aglow. I see bright red blood tinging sable…
I see ebony on ivory. I see midnight on daylight. I see sweet black hands plucking stark white fiber, in my fields aglow. I see bright red blood tinging sable…
I'm usually very black and white, very take it or leave it, very hard set on the boundaries of seasons. But lately I've discovered the joy of wandering back around…
It's Sunday and my seat will be empty. That seat there next to the preacher where I stand and raise one hand in worship and slip the other into his…
I still feel yesterday hanging around behind my eyes. I got a good nights rest, no one needed anything, the hour was early when my head found the pillow, sleep…