Foggy mornin' in the mountains

The fog is thick, as if the clouds dropped down to wrap misty arms around the mountains an' fill the hollers to the brim. Darkness latches onto the fog an' pushes hard agin the on-comin' day.

The thick damp mist muffles the sounds of dawn. Birds are feather fluffed an' quiet, waitin' for the sun that still hides behind the clouds. Roosters wander out of the hen house damp an' bedraggled, not willin' yet to crow an' call in the dawn.

Big Ben clocks ring harsh in the not yet day, unwindin' as they cry "rise an' shine". Ol' men reach out an' lift the clock to stare with sleep sandy eyes, seein' it ain't yet sunrise, thinkin' Big Ben must be lyin', must be wrong.

But mantle clocks an' that big ol' number 18 sized pocket watch, coin silver case an' 17 jewel sure both speak the same truth. Mornin' has come, no sun has risen, but mornin' has come home to the hills.

As they rise up, womenfolks sit on the side of the bed, gatherin' their long hair into buns, pullin' strands tight an' under tortoise shell combs. Aprons on, they head for the kitchens to throw kindlin' into cook stoves, light a fire, wash up an' get breakfast together.

The menfolks are more verbal as they stand, groan moanin' an' unsteady with mornin' aches to pull on overalls, drag on worn out socks and slowly tie up scuffed brogans. In cabins up an' down the creek they wander to the kitchen, wash up in the pans of water warm an' waitin' for them, grab a sup of water from the dipper before they lift the pail, head for the well to draw fresh water an' then to the barn to feed the mules, milk the cows an' begin the day's work.

It is mornin' in the mountains, hidden by the fog, not delayed.

Mornin' in the Mountains

Though dawn is still far away
Old eyes blink once, twice, open.
Nothing stirs in the early darkness
Big Ben alarm clock steadily ticks
Counting time, keepin' the beat
Keepin' a steady pace, onward till morn.
The yellowed newspapers pasted tight
Against the walls are still unseen
Old news, oxymoron long forgotten
Now keeps out the wind an' cold.
Deep feather bed is a sleepy nest
Quilts are hand stitched security
Pulled chin high an' held tight
Against the day, the morn, the dawn.
Then high on the hill, just there
A lone robin wakes, shakes an' sings
Inside a blink, a yawn an' ol' leg creaks.
Ol' dog's long vigil held on the floor
Curled nose to tail on a braided rag rug.
Them creakin' bones made ol' dog stir
Tail thumpin' 'gainst ancient chestnut
Hand hewn, sandstone smoothed puncheon floor.
Deep in a holler, down the creek
An ol' ramblin' cabin sits quiet like
Coiled tight like a spring, waitin'
For the ol' Big Ben to ringle jangle
Mornin'! Good mornin', Get up an' go.
Soon lights will lighten, brighten windows
Push through the humid darkness
Coffee, boiled long, strong, aroma thick
Will seep through every door,
Curl in every corner, warmin' hearth an' heart
It is mornin' in the mountains.

Rainy Mornin' in the Mountains

Down yonder in the mountains, deep in the holler
A right smart drive from any little ol' town
Little ol' cabins sit coveyed up in a wide spot
Not much more than a couple fields an' a creek
Sittin' in the flat place made as two hills run together.

It is early mornin' an' the mist still clings tight
Seems to wrap tendrils around the trees an' weeds
Writhes an moves an' reaches out here an' yonder
Hangin' on a might longer since it is rainin'.

Soon enough a weak an' ancient sun will rise
Tryin' to punch through the mist, rain an' clouds.
Birds will wake up an ruffle their damp feathers
Roosters, hoarse from the damp will crow a scratchy "cock-a-do".

Cows in beat up an' broken down barns are gonna beller
Hopin' someone will be out soon to milk.
Ol' dogs will rise out of the dust under them cabin porches
Shake an' look out at the rain only to drop down again.

 Lights are soon to come on an' little streams of smoke
Will start to rise from chimneys as coals are poked
An' big ol' potbelly stoves are stoked.
It is a rainy ol' mornin' in the mountains.

Folks are just a' risin', breakfast just a' cookin'.
Ol' men will be movin' slow this mornin'.
Bones just achin', feet a' hurtin' as they pull on their shoes.
But they is chores to be done, stock to feed.

It is a rainy ol' wonderful, blessed mornin' in the mountains.
Y'all come home.  Come on home.

Daddy Song from 2004

I wrote this a week after I lost my Daddy in 2004. As Father's Day approaches tomorrow I think of him as I often do on holidays, his birthday and other occasions. As a Christian I hold fast the promise of Heaven and know I will see him again someday.  I'm proud to be his son.

Heartache of heartaches,
My Daddy is gone.
My soul cries out to him
But no answer is heard.

He has cast off his frailty
Like an old worn shirt.
Yet I cling to the hollow,
Afraid to let go.

His spirit left this place,
Fled to the mountains of home.
Walked one more walk
'Neath the sweet sourwood blooms.

Washed his feet again
In the clear creeks up the holler
Ran like he did as a youngin'
Up the road to the homeplace.

Like a young deer his spirit
Jumps and leaps and runs free.
Clear eyes look at a cabin
Gone now for fifty years.

There, through the twilight
He sees the lights of home.
His loved ones wait, patient
Smiling at spirit found freedom.

My Daddy turns and sees us
Wants to say goodbye.
He waves like he always does
Then walks back up the holler.

His steps are easy now
There is strength anew.
He runs towards the lights of home
Turns once more, smiles.

"I'll be waitin'" he says
And grins his grin.
His eyes have a twinkle
Like he knows somethin' we don't

Rise Up You Will

The comfort of a mornin' rain
Drummin' a constant beat
On a worn out tin roof.
Birds callin' in the trees
Yonder, up on the hillside.
The warmth of this ancient quilt
The texture of cloth and stitching.
Just smell the strong smell of coffee
Inhale the promise of bacon crisp.
Apples fried in a cast iron skillet
Cat head biscuits still risin' in the oven.
Eggs just gathered from under a fussy hen
Broke into a skillet and fried careful like
Just the way y'all like them.
It ain't fittin' to rise up to such a feast
But rise up you will, ready to go.
Its mornin' down here in the holler
Y'all wash up an' take a seat.