Appalachian Heritage

BALLAD If you allowed, oh, one whole day to try to understand some thing, what would it be, my love? (my love, oh ask me why the wildflowers beg and relentless birds perch on one leg and moss repeals a tree) And if you had, yes, in these hills, yes, in these woods, say, lost your way, what would you see, my love? (my love, stay close beside the tightening vine, this you will see: recoil, entwine, day after startling day) And what do I mean, my love? My love, I mean to search with a ferret's foot for the root that arises now here, now there, nor relents, nor leads but to anywhere (and when it appears, I may need you near, stay near, my love), my love .... —Gerald George VIEW OF A HAWK Not just that the act was pure Or the arc of flight a sign, A spanning beyond sense, a grace, Majestic in an empty, open sky; Not because a hawk is beautiful; Not just that the spirit lifts With this loftiness, this bold regency; Not because the soaring of a winged thing Is a singing in the open air, a meaning, A bursting forth from earth; None, none of these was vital To its revelation; Instead here simply shown the bird's own moment: Sharp and singular, A new act fresh, Seen, yes, before, and to be seen again, But here once more a new time to occur— hawk, happening in the universe! —Gerald George 1,> 1 V. s I 34 ...