by Tokens host Lee C. Camp A friend recently told me about a spot on the Cumberland Plateau I had never visited, called Collins Gulf; it was a gorgeous Tennessee winter day, not a soul in site for 4 1/2 hours. The Collins river and the tributary creeks up on the sides of the gulf all full of water from recent rains. So for today, a poem I wrote, and some pictures I took, along the way.
The laurel hums the beauty The water sings the praise The gulf sits quiet, undaunted Humility from countless days.
The cypress like Pentecostals, Arms thrown, to the skies Branches broken, blown aside No pity, no queries why.
The moss, it kneels in silence Mute, but, shouting glory The river runs white and heedless Its path long trod and hoary.
Day to day still pours forth speech, Boulder, and winter smell of pine, The precipice weeps, the limestone laughs, And all for joy, for--joy.