This summer will be mountains
Smooth and smoky across the land
Cool and blue gentle breezes
Take a look, your mind eases
This summer will be mountains
Tall and great, alpine meadows
Rocky snowy majestic might
I'll be awed in such a sight
This summer will be mountains
Cold creeks, fir trees, camp fires too
Road trips, starry skies, all with you

It's lovely
at that time of the morning,
there's no one in sight.
You witness granite
steps disappear upward
into the Mountain Laurel,
hear the Goldfinches echo
in harmony
with the brook,
smell the evergreens.
And as you venture up,
venture up into the cloud,
you touch the spirit world,
hear the Cherokee cries.

I love it out here
In the middle of grasslands and
Old houses built on farms
The sky's the limit out here
The air is pure and just right
Giving me crazy ideas about flying and living too
Everything is clear
You may pass 2 cars on the way into town
Dilapidated houses and barns
Scattered all about
They may not be habitable
But they still look homely to me
I'd take this over the smog
And smoke of the cities
That make you choke
Over the people tons and thousands of them
That riddle you with claustrophobia And pretenses with hidden intentions
I'd take the quiet loneliness over the inability to sleep due to noise inflictions
Every. Single. Day. I would choose this breathtaking place

I am not a machine with a full tank of gas
I am a human being with limits, and food is not just fuel.
I need nourishment of all sorts to be fully alive.

Sometimes all I see are empty eyes in this urban jungle
that I call home, even though my heart belongs in Appalachia.
I am a mountain boy away from my true home.

I long to feel the morning fog roll in,
and hear the songs of the cicadas.
I love seeing fireflies in the summer time,
and the feel of a summer rain coolin' my skin.

I am not a machine,
a thing to be valued merely based on
production and function.

I have value, because I have life coursing through me,
and I sing the song of the Creator in my soul.

Mist moves through early morning
Swirling a top the remaining craggy Gods
Standing tall to form the Appalachia
PawPaw trees hang heavy
Laden with fruit, ripened by Eastern sun
Precious ecosystem sustaining what shouldn't grow in this hemisphere
What's left that has not been removed
By blasting coal extraction
Towers above us still, breathing deep
Guarding us in silent repose
Footsteps weave to and fro
Sweet grass brushing sensitive skin
My laughter echo's through the Old Oaks
Honey bees gather pollen
Buzzing happily by my side
We must protect this special place
Turn away from stripping her of her glitter
Of her shine
Clean air, healthy soil
She can recover, she will survive

Oranges & reds
crack the eastern skies
to greet the red-tailed hawk,
coffee brewing.

O those dogwoods thrill!

A fawn frolics with her doe
& every shade of jade
drops dew
as cottontails hop
amongst the deserted
moonshine still
in love.

I am
in Appalachia.

Five thousand trees between his knuckles
Crushing the bark, choking the oaks
Straining through leaves with makeshift sieves
Angling to find an ankle or two
Praying that even a toenail would do
But all to be found was her mountain laurel crown
Still tangled with strands of burnt-birch down