Sunday, May 25, 2008

Mountain Thirst

There is a thirst that cannot be satisfied
A hunger that pains the insides
Of mountain folks long separated
From hill,home and holler.
It lingers on our minds like
A daydream never forgotten
Like a teenager's first kiss
Dreamed of and never matched.
It rolls around on the tongue
And in the belly like the sweet
Taste of sourwood honey.

Life in the mountains is hard scrabble
Never forgotten, under-appreciated
A struggle that we love
Filled with remembrances
Of coal mines, tobaccer sheds
Saw mills, truck gardens
Seinin' for ginseng to buy
Shoes for a growin' youngin,
A dress for a worn out mama.
Or flowers to sit on the casket
Of the old man, shrunk down
And shriveled by the cancer
By black lung and bein' on
The government dole.

But it gets folks sort of thirsty
'Specially on a Friday afternoon
Wantin' to get in the car
Drive back home for a few days
To sit on ol' worn out porches
An' listen to the rain fallin'
On ancient tin roofs.

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