The tranquility
Of the early morning
Surrounds me
With crisp mountain air
Fragrant with the scents
Of freshly tilled earth
And wood smoke.
I sit on the porch swing,
My body wrapped 
In flannel and fleece,
Sipping a mug of cocoa
As I contemplate my blessings
And the newly risen sun.
A bluejay scolds me
From a high power line
And from down near 
The mist-shrouded creek
A cow lows gently 
To its rambunctious
Week-old calf.
An occasional car
Or pick up truck
Passes on the narrow road
That snakes along
The edge of our property,
Disappearing over the hill
And around a curve,
Seemingly,
Like myself,
In no hurry to get
Whereever it is going.
I smile bemusedly
To myself,
Remembering my youth
When I angrily denounced
My Appalachian heritage,
Yearning for something
I never found,
Until now,
When with the wisdom
And experience 
Of middle-age
My eyes were opened
To what lay before me.
Now I honor the generations
That went before me
And nurture the earth
They worked.
I am They
And They are Me,
And by embracing the past
I become whole.