Across the hills over a blue lake,
An eagle soars within my shadow.
I reflect upon who I am,
An ancient mountain soul.
I am massive. I am old. I am Appalachia.
Home is woodlands, wildflowers, and whitetail deer,
I live deep within every ridge and valley.
Hickories shade sunlight from my forest floor.
Cool waters trickle downstream,
Aged memories float away.
I gaze downward at life below.
Rivers alive with fish and beaver,
Black bears binge on blueberries,
The hunter-gatherer savors his catch.
I am fertile, filled with life.
My hills hued like a rainbow.
Azalea drips with purple petals,
Ripe, red strawberries, sweetened by the sun.
I paint nature with every color of the universe,
I am wild, without constraint.
From rhododendrons bluebirds sing,
My heart beats an ancient rhythm,
Heaven, hear my humble hymn.
I reflect upon who I am,
I am massive. I am old. I am Appalachia.
Published in the "Common Threads" in the Ohio Poetry Association
January 2014
Old Souls
