Dreams an' dusty roads

Y'ever wonder why we visit the ol' places lodged in our memories? Why we drive slow up to an abandoned field where once an ol' log cabin stood?

Do you find yourself smilin' as you drive "down home", grinnin' bigger as you get closer to the ol' homeplace?

Wonder why we sit sometimes an' just daydream of them places we once lived, where Grandma an' Grandpa toiled ever so hard?

Or ponder why sometimes in the deep darkness of night we close our eyes, squinch them real tight like and sift through them mind photos till we find that one place, pull aside the dusty curtains or memory and look, taste, smell and hear the ghosts of what used to be right there?

Oh, if I could find a spot as I wander, maybe just beyond the ol' rusty gate, in back of the abandoned barn, or up the holler where I could shift time an' space and slip through, back to them days, back to them places, back to where we all dream of bein'.

If only I could shed the weary and worn pieces of me an' be a youngin' once more, could run so fast to call out, "Looky here, here I am again!"

What if folks would look up, Grandma, Grandpa or Uncles an' Aunts, Mama an' Daddy, who would chuckle an' say, "Well, we didn't know you was gone."

Maybe run down to the creek an' walk right in, feel the cold water on dusty feet, soles callused so's that them ol rocks an' pebbles didn't even hurt a'tall. Bend over an' grab hold of a crawdad as it backed into the cover of a mossy rock, hold it high in the air an' whoop, hollerin', "Looky here what I caught!".

What if you an' I could find that hidden path back, play in the hills all day, hide an' seekin' in the hollers, an' then go a'runnin' right swift like back to the house when some of the women calls real loud, "Supper, come on y'all, its suppertime."

What if Heaven is just like that? What if closin' our eyes here on earth for the last time, what if that is the door we can slip through to find those things we dream of, where the folks we love are sittin' on the porch an' lookin' down the lane, lookin' for the dust risin' up as we come up the road?

What if the Good Lord is a'waitin' for us an' swings open a big ol' gate that creaks just a bit on the hinges an' says, "I've been wonderin' when you was gonna come on home. Go on now, just over yonder, follow them bright stars south. It ain't too far now. You're almost home. Listen close an' you'll hear folks a whoopin' an' hollerin' your name, cheerin' you on, glad you've finally come home."

Then He smiles an' says, "Well done, My Child. Go on now, youngin', they's a'waitin' supper for you.".

Storms ranting

Through the darkest of night
Into the morning just before dawn
Storms rant and rail
Rumbling and tumbling
Over my roof and bed.

Waiting just till I doze
Moments before deep sleep
Then gleefully pounding 
Joyfully pouring rain
Into my thoughts and dreams.

Stolen Heart

 My heart was stolen long ago
Not by a gal who winked an' smiled
Nor a beauty with angelic voice
It was not captured by feminine wiles
Or even kisses tender, soft

I cannot note a certain time
A point I knew it true
It was'nt love at the very first sight
Not second or even three
Wasn't smitten with much ado

My heart was taken away from me
In a quiet and subtle way
I did not know or realize it then
Just how my love had grown
How could I not have known

Then one day I just stopped and knew
Just had to look around
My heart was rooted deep you see
Sunk down, tied in, anchored deep
In the hills all around me

 In my dreams I wander there
Through oaks, magnolias, pines
I walk in hollers deep and old
Along a rugged ridge
Each footstep planned and sure

I trace the grain of chestnut wood
On planks of tobaccer barns
As if I touch my beloved's face
Or hold her tender hand
For I am smitten by this place
The mountains and this land.

A Cabin Waits

In my early morning dreams and sleepy drifting I wander down an old dirt road and just as I turn the bend I see an ol' cabin just waitin' for me. It is carefully placed at the head of a holler, sourwood trees full of bees just a buzzin' on hillsides that rise high above. Though it is day, there is a light in the window to let me know I am welcome an' the cabin waits for me.

I ease up onto the porch an' sit in one of the sturdy rockin' chairs, ancient an' well worn but made well, just as the cabin is. I look out on the road an' realize the view is perfect. The sound of cicadas catch my ear an' I sit back to listen as they hum a mountain tune.

Just over to the right of my vision I see a creek slappin' an' dancin' over rocks an' divin' deep in them calm spots. Water skippers skate along an little ol' minnows dart here an' yonder. As I watch my vision almost glazes over, like they are a hypnotizin' me. But they ain't, I see it just then, they are a spellin' my name, tellin' me I am home.

Early Morning Dreams

In the darkness of early morning
Well before the dawn,before my neighbors rise
I stood and watched the clouds move slow
Majestic as they sail across the sky above my head.
The high winds have pushed them tight
They appear to be washboards in the heavens
As if a wondrous giant wash woman waits
For dawn and a new day to scrub away yesterday.

Frost is painted on roof, fence and grass
Sparkling like the stars that twinkle and play Hide and seek in the blue morning sky.
It is so quiet now, no spring peepers or songbirds
No roosters, old dogs or even the sounds of cars and commerce
Just the quiet that is before the dawn.

As I stand in the cold morning I remember dreams and wonders
Dreams of spaceships and other worlds that surely spin
Around the very stars I see in my sky.
Dreams of  fairies, dwarves, heroes and elves, giants, gryphons,
And wings that spring from my back, a wondrous surprise
 As I spread wings and reach out to the winds and rise up and fly.

The King of Dawn

In the early morning hours the sky is dark, midnight blue and clear
As if God laid his royal robe over the earth for a moment.
The stars glitter brightly, they are His royal diadem
Dropped carelessly onto the majestic robe as He passed by.

The crescent of the new moon is surely the jewel
Set atop His Scepter, laid aside for just a while
As He tends to the hearts and hurts of men, women
Little ones who cry out even now to a loving God.

Royal vestments aside, the Shepherd of our lives
Searches each one out, reaches out to comfort.
He turns to see His Son and Spirit waiting, watching.
To the great Comforter he speaks softly, gently;

"Tend this one, and those over yonder, they need Our touch."
And in the early morning hours, awakened by the Son,
Warriors rise up, drop to their knees and intercede
Not knowing who or what the need is, but knowing.

In the early morning hours hurting and desperate folks
Cry out to the Omnipotent Creator, not as King of Kings
Nor as the Great Shepherd of His far flung flock
But like a little lost child, crying, "Abba, Daddy".

Before I Go

At times in the deep of night
As I lay in bed and wait for sleep
My mind wander to those precious things
Toys and tidbits of the mind
Set aside to be bumped and nudged
Picked up and played with quietly
Where no one sees or can steal.
Sweet kisses from my darlin'
My baby's hand wrapped around a finger
The sound of Daddy callin' "Supper".
The almost forgotten memory
Nudged into a corner but finally found
Of layin' in bed an' hearin' womenfolk
Cookin' breakfast in the early mornin'.
The salty pleasure of country ham
Big ol biscuits covered with gravy
Boiled coffee so dark an' hot
Wakin' me up with that aroma.
The taste of sweet watermelon
Drippin' down my chin and neck
Or that burnin' taste of moonshine
Shocked that it wasn't water
Surprised that there Mason jar
So cold and covered with dewdrops
Could choke a little nosey boy.
Feelin' mud between my toes
Sand rushin' from under my feet
As the tide pulls back and away.
Maybe wadin' in the creek
In the middle of the holler
Feet a slippin' an slidin'
As brother and I searched
Liftin' each rock to catch crawdads.
Smellin' sheets and ancient quilts
Fresh off the clothesline.
Waitin' to drift off but thinkin'
Knowin' there are more days behind
Than before me now.
Wonderin' about what happens
When my Father calls me home.
Hopin' I can pause as I go
And bump and nudge
Pick up and play with
Those wonderful memories
Just one more time
Before I go.

Magic Dances in the Trees

 





Listen to the hidden magic among the trees
Hidden just over there they play and sing.
Magical things, wondrous things dance.
They dance and sing and laugh happily
Not bound by the rules of mere mortal men.
Can't you hear them, can't you see
Or have you grown too old, too stodgy?
Do you even believe there is magic
That fantastic things play there in the woods?
Run now with me deep into the woods
Sit there on a stump, lets wait, just wait.
Listen with your heart, your dreams
Listen for the hidden things.
They will come, they will sneak in
Quietly at first, afraid of your grownupness.
You'll think them little birds or mice or such
They'll laugh at you, knowing you to be fooled.
Then as your gaze goes fuzzy, your ears buzzy
You'll catch one of them from the corer of your eye
Hear them just over yonder, so close
As they dance and sing and laugh... with you.

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.

Wind wolves an' Dreams of Home

The cold of winter and snow thick on the roof make me mournful an' wantin' to see the hills.
When the wind blows hard an' this ol' house groans an' threatens to ease off its foundations
I lay awake an' listen to the wind wolves cry as they push agin the sides of the place
They try hard to get in, pacin' an' a pushin', hopin' to find a crack or weak spot to worry at.

Amid the creaks an' groans, howls of the wind wolves I dream, half awake of a little ol' log cabin
Laid up in the hills, deep up a holler all cozied up agin the foot of an ancient mountain
That mountain tired an' worn by a thousand an' a thousand years of wear an' toil
Tired out long before settlers wandered across the Warrior's Path to settle into a hard scrabble life.

Though their life was hard an' toilsome, that red an' yeller soil was somehow ground into their lives
It was pushed deep into their soul, into the memories of a dozen generations of mountain folks.
It became their bone an' blood, their strength an' their toil, their love an' their life
Somehow that sorry ol soil, hard scrabble life became who an' what they were, what we are.

An' now it calls to me once more as I lay awake, wantin' to find my way along frozen highways
South without glancin' at towns or sights along the straight an' narrow asphalt trail that leads home
I close my eyes to almost see each sign, each exit as I travel down through the foothills
Deeper, deeper still into the hollers, across the creeks an' down along a riverbed lined with slate.

Oh, in my dreams I am home, I am home as I stand in front of that ol' log house, covered with snow
As I look I see smoke pushin' lazy like up the chimbley an out into the cold winter that wraps around it.
It ain't much at all, not a lot to look at an' not no kind of a mansion, as plain as an ol' mud fence
Look careful there over there at that little ol window yonder an' see, do you see the light put there for me?

Do you hear what I'm a sayin'?
That light yonder, put there for me.  A light in the window, a latch string left out.  Lettin' me know...
I am welcome.  I am home.

The Old Home Place

I have posted this photo before.  It is the old Arnett home place, originally built by my  Great Grandpa, Tom Arnett.  Though it is gone, I remember it well.  

It started out as a smaller cabin that is the left side of this cabin.  Another small cabin was built and is the right side of the cabin.  The middle is a dogtrot made of planks that joined the two cabins together.  Along the back is a shotgun kitchen that was almost the full length of this cabin.

I have so many wonderful memories attached to this old place.  Though it is gone, my mind races back to the hills and Arnett's Fork off Double Creek in Clay County, Kentucky.  I still can see my Great Aunts - Mag and Bess and Great Uncle Bill sitting on the porch.  As I get closer they all stand and wait to hug my neck.

Just across the creek to the left of this picture was the home my Grandma and Uncle Bert (Daddy's Mama and brother) shared.

It is a reminder that happiness does not spring from wealth or things, but from the hearts of those who love us and who we love.