Someone asked........

Driving North from Atlanta you begin to see,
A hint of what the sight will be.
A golden Poplar here, a giant Oak just beginning to change.
Following I-85 you turn onto I-985.
Traffic thickens up a bit,
People converge from everywhere.
As further north your car does sail,
I wish that guy would get off my tail.

Driving toward the sights to come,
Makes your life behind seem glum.
Buford brings a bit more color,
As the hills begin to roll upon each other.
On you drive with anticipation,
Of the annual sight beheld,
By the ancient Cherokee Nation.

Gainseville comes a bit to slow,
Cause just beyond there's a grade you know.
When it you top you know you'll see,
The peaks of mountains how close you'll be.
Colors of Fall begin to abound,
Natures beauty all around.

Now you are in Habersham,
Your heart soars as your eyes take in a sight.
Oh so different from last night.
The little winery on the left has closed,
And moved to Helen, where more traffic goes.

But that's ok becasue you sees,
Oh bountiful hills and God, those trees.
A turn to the left will you take,
Where apple cider they do make.
You'll cross a bridge that has no name,
But to the river beneath it,
Sydney Lanier brought some fame.

The colors fill up all your senses,
Leaving your spirit with no defenses.
Take a break at "Mark of the Potter,"
To feed giant Trout and chat a while,
With tourists who always wear a smile.
Away from here I had to roam,
But I'll always call the mountains, "Home."

(c)2007 Walt Hardester