Sunday Morning, Cumberland Gap by A.E. Stringer published in Still, Summer 2015
Black cat appears under my roadside picnic table. The Frame Shop is closed, flags swaying. I walked here from the next town through an old railroad tunnel, two-step echo. Raw rock walls overlook the valley, as they have since before the westward road. Glaring quiet, no one leaves the church; perhaps no one went in. A forties-era pickup sits behind a white BMW. Passerby asks if anything’s open. Bright. Green. Catalpa tree. Art show on a corner, then back through the mountain to my own time.