In the Land of Cotton

For all that I might bemoan my untimely burial in the Heart Of Dixie, I must tell you that I felt lucky-- no, blessed to be here on Election Day. My adopted state is a pitiful lesson in civil rights history, but on that day, I flat-out felt something Holy moving through. Truly, it was as if we collectively and finally remembered that way-put-away thing we call hope. Dragged it out, dusted it off, tightened it's wobbly bits and set it up high and bright for all the world to see. Our children called it a magic day, and we told them no different, but it was the simple light of our old-new pride that shined the day so brightly.

Glory, Glory.