Autumn In Atlanta

No longer autumn in Atlanta

It's December in Decatur

A rainy, cold front

Swept the land

I wish I'd heard this second hand

I'll never trust the weatherman

My overcoat needs wringing,

The church across the highway

Sitting quiet, bells unringing.

The rental car reads 41

The cloth seat soaks the rain and sun

The frost air nips,

And splashes drip,

There must be a view, I reckon

Stone Mountain's down the way

It beckons,

The collard greens

are hot and steamed

The cole slaw's cold

Pairs with baked beans,

There's nothing like good barbecue,

The pulled pork's fine and sweet on cue,

So now what else is there to do,

I guess I'll dream of spring.