The twilight crickets find the rhythm, fill
the evening air with humming beats to back
up Henry’s honey strums on his guitar.
A melody of mountain men and born
agains that dissipates into the night
air, curling down the concrete steps to fall
on bald grass patches, errant weeds, no ears
for miles but his own to hear his voice,
a warbling ode to Hank Sr., a song
for country boys who pick up picks instead
of pipes. Between two calloused fingers pinched,
his pick, a tortoise-shell connection to
some warm-toned magic played for corners of
a lonely valley, feeding Nashville dreams
that turn a crumbling porch into a light-
soaked stage, an empty field into his fans
swaying like blades of grass in choral wind.
Caroline Sutphin is a poet with Appalachian roots currently living and writing in Pittsburgh, PA. She received her M.F.A. from Western Kentucky University, and today works for a nonprofit while maintaining a YouTube channel on all things literary. Her current work, which can also be found in Kind Writers, Zephyrus, and Red Coyote, explores rural upbringings, family dynamics, and the strengths and traumas passed through generations.