We go to clear the cedar limbs away,
admire the leafy carpet on the trail.
We pause in reverence on this crisp fall day
and drink from mountain springs that feed our well.
And when we sip from sparkling stream that spills,
eat chestnuts, chinquapins and hickory nut,
outsiders say we’re chained forever to our hills,
grow wild as weeds, amount to nothing much.
But birches note our steps through watchful eyes,
see we revere the buckeye, holly, pine,
acknowledge art in fancy fan fungi,
respect the land, and love the peace we find.
If we today this hallowed hollow trust
perhaps someday the world will follow us.

The author provided no autobiography.