Watching (POEM)

Watching (POEM) You in all your splendor, in poetic pose you stand. I, the silent watcher, impressed by your command. Regal in your stature, powerful in your grace. I watch in awe mere mortal, a speck in the human race. Oh how humans miss this, the majesty of it all. But I, for a moment,…

After Dark In The Smokies (Poem)

After Dark In The Smokies (POEM) Dark blues of night press hard into tonight’s midnight blue hues of the mountains. Funny I think, remembering how midnight blue was always my favorite crayon color as a kid. Now I know why. The silouette of it all, a cut out for the ages. Dark blues against darker…

Cherokee Whispers (POEM)

Cherokee Whispers (POEM) Fog nestles deep in the curves of the skyline. Billowing upward in silent repose. It looks like puffs of smoke from a cigarette. It’s nature enchanting, almost mystical, Calling to my soul. I watch this morning before the sun rises. The sun still tucked away in her slumber. This dynamic, I witness,…

Hay Time (POEM)

Hay Time (POEM) There is not much more fun than play’n In the rolling fields we’re hay’n. It is a seasonal feast For us farmers at least As we know that it’s time for the bale’n. We wait for the day When it is time to cut hay All the friends, they load in the…

Woodland Melody (POEM)

Woodland Melody (POEM) Oh how woodland sounds They pull at my soul. I walk in these woods And my spirit takes hold. Bird songs like lullabies, Drifting through pines. They filter out restlessness, Uncluttering my mind. Damp and cool breezes Sweeping down from the sky, They infultrate my pores And flush out my eyes. I…

The History Of The Scarecrow ~ Rural Legends And Folklore And The Scarecrow (POEM)

The scarecrow is a historical feature of American tradition that stands steady as time waxes on – even as Americans move from farm and field to cities and urban centers. Truly, the scarecrow is rooted in the rural life style.  Hay stuffed scarecrows grace pumpkin patches, corn fields and many agri-tourism destinations across rural America…

Growing Up In Wilsonville (POEM)

Growing Up In Wilsonville (POEM) I grew up in the country It made me who I am. I have traveled this world and seen a few things But I am tired of all the glam. My country roots they call me home, To a place where land meets sky. Where friends of old are deep…