Mountain Memories

A quiet mountain morning
Brings back a memory
Of the home place in the hollow,
Where my heart will always be.
Wood smoke hanging in the air
Mixes with the other smells
Coming form the kitchen;
And the stories Grandpa tells
Make me kind of homesick
For that slower peaceful time
Back up in the mountains
And the life that once was mine.

Oh, that life up in the mountains
Gave so much to me.
It taught me about beauty,
About home and being free.
It taught me about loving, and
What matters most of all.
Now sometimes in the evening
I think I hear the call
Of an old owl in a mountain pine
Drifting down to me,
And it stirs my mind to thinking
About those mountain memories.

Life here in the city
Seems somehow out of joint.
It’s all prestige and power;
And we just don’t get the point
That life was made for living
At a somewhat slower pace
That it’s about what’s in your heart
And not some fancy place.
It’s about the love of fam’ly—
Your children and your wife—
Like we knew back in the hollow
With its quiet mountain life.

On cool summer evenings
Folks would gather ‘round;
And often I would fall asleep
Listening to the sound
Of the old folks telling stories
On the front porch in the night.
With shadows dancing on the ground
From flickering coal oil light.
And when it came to hard times
Those same old folks would be
Right there standing with you—
Just making memories

©Stan Sanford
October 14, 2002