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Mary
I’d like to lie down next to heron a giant quilt–the kindmade by an Appalachian grandmotherwith twisted fingers and knuckles like walnuts–and listen to her read aloudfrom her collectionor speak to me softlyof what she had found in the forestthat day as she wandered.I imagine her voice now crackleslike a forgotten recorddusted off and laid…
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Snakes
My mother never liked snakes.Once, I saw her shoot two black snakes right out of a tree–they were writhingand weaving together in the branches,hanging entwined making love–but she was not fooling around. Another time,she emptied a pistol into onethat had the misfortuneof wandering through her yard–five shots out of six on target–and then she grabbed…
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For the Rest of Our Lives
Christopher pulled the straps as tight as he could, then patted the canoe. “She feels pretty solid to me. You ready to go?” I nodded and took a deep breath. This was going to be the wildest trip we had ever taken. We hopped in the ancient Subaru. He grinned and gave me a quick…
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On a November Evening
The brilliance of November at dusk! Hilltops lit up like a box of flaming matchsticks, burning brightly beneath rose-gold and lavender clouds. I hope my dying is like a November evening, wrapped in a cozy, fiery glow, celebrating in quiet exaltation the apex of life. As my season of frozen, silent stillness approaches (for death…
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Sitting Among the Falling Leaves
The trees did sway In the breeze this way And that. And the leaves Did drop to the ground, Fall all around where I sat– The green and the brown, The red, orange and gold, They plummeted down– Like birds, so bold!– One landed on top of my hat.
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The Delight of the Bumblebees
One evening while wandering I came upon dozens of insouciant bumblebees recumbent in their Elysium, each holding to a pink-and-white flower, drunkenly sipping the dregs of its nectar, heedless of passersby. Each stem supported one bee and it was as if they dined there, each solitary despite their companions, so lost in their own ecstasy…
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Barefoot
When your toes hang out the holes in your Kmart canvas shoes it’s much nicer to run barefoot down the gravel driveway squish mud puddles (avoid the tadpoles) between your toes and race through fresh-cut grass sink your feet in the soft cool dirt under the elderly maple– and learn where not to run, too–…
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The Appalachian House
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–…
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