What a marvel,
the way industrious Appalachians
have long managed to plop

their homes on the side
of any available hill,
propped up and held stationary

by wood beams, cement, and magic–
Generation after generation
the houses stand, bold against

gully-washers and blizzards,
defying nature and common sense.
Through bare winter trees

you see them–
red and brown and gray,
with impossible driveways

and rooflines to match.
Like the people here,
the houses are boastfully

rough, worn, often irrational,
but standing strong
against all odds.