Today I ride the wind currents mindful of God's creation far below.
I'll gather all my yesterdays, some so fresh but others from long ago.

I'll examine them briefly before I return them to age like old wine.
Cause they are a part of me as is today, but tomorrow may never be mine.

The pictures below are like a kaleidoscope of ever changing scenes.
Peaks, valleys, shadows, sunshine, and wild rushing streams.

Far ahead shining brightly I recognize the white rocks of Lee.
Like a magnet they pull me closer and I am no longer flying free.

I'll rest a spell here and gaze down at little Ewing---Ah what a sight.
But soon the currents recall me and my wings spread in flight.

The gentle curves of the mountain serve as a perfect road map.
I climb higher and higher as I circle the battle grounds atop Cumberland Gap.

Confederates in waiting as the Yankees draw ever so near.
Harmonica is straining to the high notes of 'Look away' 'Look Away'.

Solemn the faces, but so far no sign of fear.

Panoramic views before me of Kentucky, Virginia and Tennessee.
Stirs my memories of Boone, Crockett, and Lee.

Strong currents toss me as I soar over a town I know well.
Nestled in a small valley among mountains in the county of Bell.

I move on and suddenly fog engulfs me and where I am I have no clue.
But I glide through a misty opening and the town of Pineville comes in view.

I rise through the opening and sail toward Harlan, a land of noted black gold.
But sadly for many miners slate falls took their toll and some with black lung never grew old.

Loyal, Baxter,Verda, Mary Helen, Benham, Lynch, Jenkins, Cawood, Cranks and Crummies Creek.
Once bustling and boisterous, but now like all coal camps of yesterday are empty and bleak.

Now I sail over Virginia again where many more died. Pardee, Dante, Pound, Clintwood, Appalachia, Norton, Keokee, St. Charles.
Miners graves dot the hillsides proof of living to grow old denied.

Now like a fresh cut jewel, Big Stone Gap shines below me, then Duffield. Near Stickleyville I rise to the top of Powell mountain, light in a tree and after a nap,
I head inside the border of my youth to Rose Hill, Jonesville, Dryden, Woodway, Dot, Elk Knob, Stone Creek, St. Charles, and Pennington, what to old timers was the Gap.

Stone Face stands tall and foreboding and watches the water flow.
Belching smoke rises to greet me as an old steam engine emerges from underneath it and tears wet my cheeks when I hear that lonesome whistle blow.

I now fly low over 421 with no currents to ride, I’m on my own.
The excitement inside me is building, i'm almost home.

Carter's, Cooper's, Osborne's, Parks, Stapleton's, Parsons, Kirk's Harber's, Thompson's, Woodard's, Wheeler's, Napier's, Wolfe's, Dean's, Martin's, Keith's, Perkins, Yeary, Hughes, Cridlin's, Pennington's, Doss, Dowell, Robbins, Green, West, Baird, Burgin's, Smallwood, Head's, Calton's, Middleton's, Evans, Garrett's, Irvin's, Lee's, Haynes, Moore's, Jackson,s, Rhea's, Roop's, and the Green's, and Garrett's of Harlan along with the Pace's and Day's, Sturgill's, and Powells.

Most of my yesterdays were shared with these people and it's sad to know that the most of them are gone. I read the obits just this A.M. and see where Glen Stapleton died. I grew up with that family and have often thought of paying him a visit on one of my visits up there, but would always put it off till next time. Makes me sad enough to cry and I think I will.

I now sit in a tall hemlock in the center of the old Kirk Cemetery off 421. I look down at the stones, some unmarked and God only knows who they are, but I know they must be related to the ones that I do know here so I feel comfortable and connected among them.

And there's that bunch of fussing crows on a nearby ridge, I swear it must be the same gang that i've heard here fifty or sixty years ago.

Now high a top Elk Knob I look down on Woodway, Dot, Dryden, and Powell river winding it's way to Tennessee. Down there were the Jessee's, Hobbs, Hall's, Young's, Wolliver's, Myer's, McCracken's, Johnson's, Morefield's, Roger's, Huff's, Daugherty's, Slagle's, William's, and many more.

Seventy years ago you could see the lights from Bonny Blue and Benedict mines at night from up here but no more.

Speaking of lights it looks like darkness is about to set in so I better catch a current and glide off here.
Thanks for coming along on my journey, maybe we can do it again some time.

I'll leave with this.

As this day pushes up against tomorrow and is swallowed by time. And if I awaken at daybreak I will cherish it as mine....

Another one of my yesterdays to age like old wine.