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grandfather's hog call it sent chills up my spine and moved me as few other poems I've ever heard read. That's how I want to remember West, as an imposing and dignified figure, assured of his voice and of his position in the world, even as he struggled up the final steep hillsides of the Appalachian mountains he so dearly loved and fiercely fought for. Just or unjust, I am untouched by rain: no windows in the upstairs rooms to shut, No clothes to gather from a sagging line, no screen to latch in case the wind comes up; I have no crops to flood-- no creek to rise . . . When ashes from dry springs wash through my mind, I recollect how Grandma set our old rain barrel outside. --Barbara Shirk Parish
Appalachian Review – University of North Carolina Press
Published: Jan 8, 1994
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