Somewhere on a quiet corner
in an Appalachian town,
there’s a place of welcome,
of art and wine, poetry and song,
beating and bleeding hearts,
where gather tastemakers, the tasteful,
and those who want (a) taste–
where the shiny and polished sit side-by-side
with the rough and unfinished,
artists and wanderers, lawyers and lesbians–
where vegans dine with carnivores
and, arms extended, call to you–
bring your friends–they’re family, too–
you won’t go hungry, feed your stomach
and your soul, and then, if you must,
we’ll hate to see you go.