cumberland country blues

oak and hickory flank the highway

to and from the homest of places.

temperate deciduous forest

holds a terrifying attraction for me.

my mind hopscotches

here, there, around the square

all eight hours.

plans, possibilities, contingencies,

what-ifs, to-dos, to-do nots,

crossroads, predicaments, and eventualities

spin their webs,

beat their drums,

sharpen their knives,

and scrape their flint

until a mighty fire blooms.

the hydrogen and oxygen are peeled away,

leaving behind the black, black carbon.

much is destroyed,

but

much

is

revealed.