Appalachian Return

Appalachian Return by JOANNA SAYLOR Day ancient in time. Here in the shadows I relive the past. Not the past of my own experience, but the past of my race. Moss roses bloom on the window sill yellow, pink, American beauty—glory in miniature. Cats sleep on the braided rug, feet tucked beneath them. Trees fling light-leaved limbs against the window in ancient wind. Here in the shadows primitive emotions flow. I see my family around the hearth My mother telling a folk tale from her childhood in the mountains ; my father, eyes closed, resting but listening; my brother laughing as he says magic words to hold his chair while he leaves the fire. In the lonely, mysterious night, a dog barks. Sleep on, cats, while I close the window and return to sounds soft, ancient, primordial. 70 ...