Going Home Again
the road
not taken
West Virginia
muse
waking in
my grandmother's bed
outside morning window-
blue jays as blue
as the blueberries
she folded into muffin
batter
spirits inhabit
me this morning.
You Can Go
A week of mist
has past
as the past
so quickly
rain in fine lace sheets
steamy mists
mingle in the
delicately crisp
autumn air
a few glimpses
of cornflower
behind the clouds
in the
West Virginia
October Sky.
Mountains as grand
as the people
beaten down
not all of them
and
not so much
beaten
as quietly
resigned
acceptant
of the perception
of a lesser lot
in this life
this grand stop
on the continuem
coffee on the front porch
this last day
in the mountains
child adult
no longer
young
yet younger
than ever
I watch in wonder
a tiny
golden orange spider
repel
from the windchimes
in front of me
without fear
I realize that
this
will always be home
and I thank God
that I am a West Virginian
every time
I return.
