Earle Brown Poet Narrative

In the Embrace of Mountains

Mountain soften the gawp of sun 
far beyond the boondocks, 
where the fog plays in stillness,
 ‘fore the banties arouse the glade
When life came to Bottom Land 
bare feet stomped common paths 
Between the tall oak trees 
echoes stood for seconds, 
as tiny voices cartwheeled  
from hanging rocks that bite into the dell

The Good River lend a hand, Big Sandy, 
to water the Bottom Land, 
three acres that fed nine mouths
 and satisfy our bellies
When the snow turn up, 
and pile high on the new year, 
like cotton on a mule cart, 
Pap wore rags to keep his toes; 
we count ten in early spring
When God send Roosevelt and the WPA, 
Pap wore cow hide boots like men ought to

The log cabin was heaven; we lived like gods
In winter, we listen to the hissing of burning 
fir and pinewood, and Pap’s alluring hunting tales
Ma’s fried-green tomatoes and cornmeal pancakes 
were more than quails falling ‘fore Mt Horeb,
and Pap was more than Moses, 
We loved more than Israel, 
far from the isle where milk and honey flow

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