Muscadine Lines: A Southern Journal

Picking Black-Eyed Peas

Bill Fleet


Hot sun glares,
Consuming all it touches.
The grass,
The garden.

Cicadas sing.
They sing of sex.
Without a mate, their line is dead.

Flowers droop.
Weeds grow tough.
Dogs lie panting in the shade.

The sun is hot,
The cicadas loud.
August presses down
As I’m picking black-eyed peas.

***

Bill Fleet grew up in rural Mississippi. He earned BA and MD degrees from Vanderbilt University. He was a faculty member in the Vanderbilt Department of Pediatrics for nine years before entering private practice in the Nashville area. He began creative writing shortly after retiring in 1998 and published his first book in 2000.

© Bill Fleet

Muscadine Lines: A Southern Journal ISSN 1554-8449, Copyright © 2004-2008