Another Day in the Valley

the sky turns grey, with
fiery streaks of red,
wood stoves fire up,
smoke rises from chimneys,
a new day begins;

a train rumbles through the valley,

the James flows swiftly beside,
they come more frequently now,
coal cars packed to the brim,
on their way eastward,
to Richmond and Washington,
replenishing stockpiles in
preparation for winter,
just as they have
for a hundred years;

it makes you wonder

how much can be left;

in the distance, a hawk

soars above Gunter Ridge,
standing exposed, naked and bare,
glistening in the early morning sun,
leaves, three times the size of a mans hand,
cover the nearby ground,
forming a blanket through which squirrels
scamper to and fro,
deer hunters scour the surrounding forest,
searching for fresh meat and trophies,
hanging morning kills upside down,
as the blood drips to the ground below;

talking about the ten pointer

that got away;

everything remains the same,

everything changes,
just as it has for generations,
and you silently think;

why would anybody want it

any other way?
.
.