I am from the deep hollows of a wilderness untamed, from Ford to Chevrolet, milk and honey

I am from a creaking shack, a whiten abode haunted by deer and faun in the morn, and sprite and toad in the eve

I am from the bulrush, the sunflower, the grass to my knees and folk of the hill

I am from prayer and patriotism, from Richard and Yvonne, Rush and Perdue, alike in dignity and diligence, willing to aid those who call, at set or rise

I am from the great arts and history, from tales of old and tales yet to be, from one out of another, transformation of the daily pleasures, creativity in uniformity

I am from none but Calvary’s vanguard, defenders of His Truth stalwart in a wavering congregation

I am from the land of Dixie and Music’s Sound, coffee and tea, meat of the creatures and of the trees

From the man who fought the flames, fighting for our home, to the man who fought the fires of war, many a score ago

I am from the image of an artist, his mark left on all who see the fruit of his labor, from trees in sylvan asylum, untouched by mortal hands, the know I as I know them. Solace is an abundant harvest for those who reside in my forest