Pond Creek      

Even by grade-school standards,
the assignment seemed simple enough.  
 
We were to "stand and deliver" our heritage.
 
A wry grin broke over my father's face,  
"son, we're Appalachian, from the East Kentucky coalfields."
 
My mind raced to the Hatfields and McCoys,
comic and unlearned figures in American culture.  
 
My Aunt Neva had other ideas.  
 
She told me of wondrous nights
around the campfires of Pond Creek.  
She spoke of poets and musicians,  
theologians and mathematicians--
an Algonquin Round Table lit by barrel fires.
 
As the coal played-out,  
so did the Pond Creek Debates.  
The scoured mountain peaks now a bituminous bridge, squiring immigrants across the Ohio River and beyond.  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
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