Sam Church
While attending ETSU, he says, "My passion for poetry gained a foothold with the help of some patient and influential professors. There isn't a better landscape for an aspiring writer than walking out my front door." His work is scheduled to appear in the upcoming "The Greening of Appalachia" issue of Now & Then: The Appalachian Magazine.
Gifts from Grandfather
by Samuel Church
The sliding of a Case knife over whetstone,
summers spent hauling black walnuts until
my hands ached, letting me taste a few
without her knowing. Buckets and buckets
full of our shared labor filled the kitchen.
Spiraled apple peels spoke like winding roads,
the scent of wood stain and sawdust escaped
through the crack of the garage door. Once coal
blackened hands now clean because supper is ready.
The tattered King James and your dog eared notes,
tucked away, buried in a life spent asking,
where does the time go? You'd always say
I was too young to know that it disappears
along those damn winding roads.
Curling round.
Taking hold.
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