Appalachian Ode

Oh, blue backed ridges rising beyond the morning haze,
where laurel crowns the slopes and rhododendron follows
clear creeks through cove after cove. Long before sunrise,
a rooster breaks the darkness while another day begins
beneath your broad shoulders, steady as memory,
lifting every gaze toward the next horizon.

Oh, black iron skillet seasoned through many harvests,
holding cornbread browned along the crust while pinto beans
have slowly reached their richest flavor. A warm biscuit waits,
for a ribbon of sorghum, and supper last long enough
for another story before evening settles across the hills.

Oh, fiddle carrying an old ballad through the valley,
meeting the banjo until two melodies travel together.
One verse becomes another, and a child who listened
soon finds the tune living inside another lifetime.
Songs have always found a welcome here.

Oh, winding creek born high among mountain springs,
turning an old waterwheel before joining the French Broad.
Brook trout hold beneath the current while summer
passes overhead. The same clear water has greeted each dawn
for thousands of years.

From the first glow upon the ridges until stars claim the sky,
these mountains give far more than a place to live.
They create the stories carried into communities,
draw wandering hearts toward the hollers,
and keep the spirit of Appalachia waiting
for another journey home.