Did once a Cherokee lodge upon this ground
Stand where now I pitch my canvas tent?
And later, were some settlers glad they found
This glade just as their failing strength was spent?
Have all of us, in our separate times
Lingered by this creek or longer stayed
Beneath these towering oak, beech, and pine
In simple awe at all the creator made?
What binds us all together is the land
For all must have a place to lay their head
A shelter fashioned with their own two hands
For home and hearth, a place for board and bread.
But now the fire is ready, the time has come
To roast these wieners, and lightly toast the buns.
Garry Breland 