Tuesday, April 09, 2013

The Memory of Simple Things

Oh, to be sittin' in a holler,
Right there on the front porch
Of an ol' mountain cabin
With coffee in one hand
An' the other restin' just so
Tn the back of a sorry hound dog. 
Just waitin' for the sun to rise up. 
Chickens are already cluckin' "cut, cut, cuuuck". 
Birds area a singin' in the trees
As the sun peeks just over that hill in the east.
I just close my eyes and I am always there.
I know the holler, the creek runnin' through,
The chestnut logs at my back,
The rough saw pattern of every board on that porch. 
I have memorized them all.
Always am there, always will be
Just behind the closin' of my eyes.

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