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Chestnuts, Sleep

Chestnuts, Sleep Danny Adams Appalachian Heritage, Volume 35, Number 1, Winter 2007, p. 101 (Article) Published by The University of North Carolina Press DOI: https://doi.org/10.1353/aph.2007.0013 For additional information about this article https://muse.jhu.edu/article/432456/summary Access provided at 19 Feb 2020 18:27 GMT from JHU Libraries Chestnuts, Sleep Mountain husks with children underneath slowly dying, you nature-betrayed sentinels of aging memories choked in adolescence rising tilted above your ubiquitous mountainsides conquered by oaks, yet we give you no rest. With arms wrapped with hands unmet around your rotting bark we peer into your hollow poisoned veins and touch, and mourn, learn, and hope. My children are robbed of you except as windblown saplings bearing optimistically green leaves, discovered on hikes, genesis of tears, leaving us only to whisper, Tomorrow— let us disturb your sleep just a while longer so you might wake again tomorrow. —Danny Adams http://www.deepdyve.com/assets/images/DeepDyve-Logo-lg.png Appalachian Review University of North Carolina Press

Chestnuts, Sleep

Adams, Danny, --
Appalachian Review , Volume 35 (1) – Jan 8, 2014
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Publisher
University of North Carolina Press
Copyright
Copyright © Berea College
ISSN
2692-9244
eISSN
2692-9287

Abstract

Danny Adams Appalachian Heritage, Volume 35, Number 1, Winter 2007, p. 101 (Article) Published by The University of North Carolina Press DOI: https://doi.org/10.1353/aph.2007.0013 For additional information about this article https://muse.jhu.edu/article/432456/summary Access provided at 19 Feb 2020 18:27 GMT from JHU Libraries Chestnuts, Sleep Mountain husks with children underneath slowly dying, you nature-betrayed sentinels of aging memories choked in adolescence rising tilted above your ubiquitous mountainsides conquered by oaks, yet we give you no rest. With arms wrapped with hands unmet around your rotting bark we peer into your hollow poisoned veins and touch, and mourn, learn, and hope. My children are robbed of you except as windblown saplings bearing optimistically green leaves, discovered on hikes, genesis of tears, leaving us only to whisper, Tomorrow— let us disturb your sleep just a while longer so you might wake again tomorrow. —Danny Adams

Journal

Appalachian Review – University of North Carolina Press

Published: Jan 8, 2014

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