Pine Mountain Cemetery XXX
            The Rumor

Dire rumor’s swirling through these pines.
More than a century has passed and no
Mining on Pine Mountain. Word was told

That no coal lay under that rise of rock
Dirt, tree roots and hidden water veins.
Saved this old mountain many a time.

Tale is that a stranger with money galore,
Wants to search and see for himself if
This mountain and hollar are really that poor.

Coal don’t sell for hardly enough to dig it
Anymore, why would he want to kill what’s
Left just because he can? Oh spirit of Indian

Tribe, ghosts of miners gone before, kin
And children, pioneer and scallywag. Rise
Up and cause a whirl of trouble. Bring heavy

Trembles undergound, forty day rains, mud
Slides, rattlesnakes thick, and copperheads, too.
Pull out every trick, do your best to trouble him.

Saving yesterday is like honing a knife. It gives
You something to look forward to, a good clean
Slice to rid the bad and save the past.

Let it not be that no todays remain of comfort
Placing what’s left of us in sacred, holy ground
Of pines, and mountain air and God’s best days.

More tales and lies and myths are still possible high
On this saving hill. But if all is lost, ground under
Yellow monsters with teeth as tall as two men,

We will take with us the deep knowing of their lives
Their loves, their hopes and ours. We might ought
To think that our bones could also rest nearer town.

No, I plan to take comfort in the hope that rumor won’t
Take on physical form or intent. I’d do better to rest my
Mind on the hope of fate saving me a piney place to rest.