Due to copyright issues I can’t use the Sunrise Over the Cotton Fields photo. This photo is used by the permission of Martha Gaston Stewart.
Gorgeous sunrise picture over a little town,
A place of small population perhaps past it’s prime,
Once barely a mail-stop the cart drove through,
Sleepy little farming community it’s crops renownn.
Sunrise casts it’s morning rays over drying brown stalks,
Topped with snow white cotton for harvest,
Such beauty my eyes see that my breath catches,
Memories of Gone With the Wind come to bring fault.
Oh, my, there are some who can’t see beyond the cotton,
And the wicked wrongness often wrought,
To produce that field of cotton, money,
A time in history not to be easily forgotten.
If one lifts their eyes to the sunrise splendor,
To the vibrancy God has for this day, this time,
One remembers Christ died upon a cross,
His arising from the dead we’re asked to remember.
There’s no eraser made to wipe out our deeds,
No easy way to ignore what once was true,
Much erasing occurs when Christ love is applied,
And greater still the righting grows stronger with these seeds.