Who am I?
I am the Rhododendron’s child, Dogwood’s daughter.
My heart beats in time with the cicada’s, my blood runs with the song of crickets and summer frogs.
My eyes are the color of dark kudzu, sweet poplar and pine and they twinkle with the pulse of lightning bugs.
I am a child of Carolina.
My skin is cool, like moss. My voice is tempered with water.
I live in the deep breasted bosom of the great smokey mountains
and my soul sings with the old voices there.
Look at me and see the ages backwards.
Look at me and glimpse times gone by.
Look at me and see the wonders of cultures, simmered in warm summer storms and tempered with icy winter nights.
Look at me and see the bard’s harp changed storyteller’s fiddle.
Look at me and know I am Carolina’s child.