Another Day in the Valley

the sky turns grey, with fiery streaks of red,
wood stoves fire up, smoke rises from
chimneys, as the dawn of a new day
begins, a train rumbles through the valley,
the James flowing swiftly beside, they
come more frequently now, pulling miles
of 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 man’s hand, cover the
nearby ground, forming a blanket,
through which the 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,

as it has for generations, and you
silently think;

why would anybody want it

any other way?

.

.