‘
Ancient continental spine
her land deep rutted, hollows
cut deep, retreating from steep ridges,
above ageless streams and rivers.
She is my home
Not born but adopted
child of hard scrabble rockfilled ridges
and deep green spring cooled hollows.
I have felt her heartbeat
from the instant my foot touched
her hard soil
and my eyes saw
a color not known until that day –
the blueness
of her October sky.
I was beckoned as if I knew her
and my soul was drawn to this promised land.
She is my home, ancient and new,
from her craggy stone breast
and fragrant sassafras woods
she calls me-
blood deep.
thecourseofourseasons 
Wow is all I can say! You took where I live and said what I could not. Thank you.
Thanks, Gail – happy you dropped by! K
A place I would love to visit. You describe her essence and I like how you personified her. So much to enjoy in this land of ours.
this is a deeply passionate write…beautiful..
Thank you – I am a bit passionate about this beautiful place I call home – K
Beautiful visuals, beautiful sounds. Really fine. I do believe a place can call to and claim you like this.
There are such lovely words and phrases in your poem: rutted, hard scrabble, spring filled hollows and sassafras. Jane
Thanks, Jane – so appreciate your kind words! K
Some places just adopt us easily.. and that past dwindles for that new place.. it’s like falling in love.
ah i felt her heartbeat for just a bit while i was there…so different from our mountains…but so beautiful…she sings quite wonderfully…