In Cumberland's embrace, I journeyed forth today,  
Through mountains wrapped in winter's quiet display.  
Not cold as youth recalls, but chill seeps deep within,  
At seventy-one, the frost feels like kin.

These mountains stand, in winter's grasp, serene,  
Stark sentinels of beauty, bare and keen.  
Awaiting spring's warm blaze, they proudly rise,  
Toward the thin light that adorns the wintry skies.

We dread yet long for winter's fierce caress,  
Snow, sleet, and biting cold, in harsh excess.  
For summer's heat, we yearn, then seek retreat,  
In cool, air-conditioned spaces, a respite sweet.

In days of old, the elements, a simpler foe,  
With layers worn, through seasons, high and low.  
My grandmother, in her feed sack garb, would stand,  
Unfazed by cold or heat, in this land.

Winter recalls a time of need and grit,  
Searching for coal, in cold, we'd never quit.  
Dressed in borrowed warmth, memories unfurl,  
Of hardship's face, in a bygone world.

Food grew scarce as winter waned, longing for spring's hand,  
Pinto beans aplenty, yet the land seemed bland.  
Cornbread and molasses, chicory coffee's brew,  
Simple meals, a testament to the resilience we knew.

Reflecting on poverty's changing face,  
In Cumberland's embrace, we found our grace.  
Through seasons of want and plenty, our spirits soar,  
For in each hardship, love was our core.

March 20, 2024
Created by
MarkWaldrop