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Follow the curves, the zigzagging road,

It twists just to shake you up.

And the church on the hill is new again

Here, the life leaks into the farm land,

The interstate liquor stores and the overnight churches.

West Hills, South Side,

College Hills, The Journey,

Immanuel and St. Francis

Brick temple after brick temple full of flocks

Looking for their home.

            ~ —– ~

If you circle the Square, and drift down the highway,

Past every gas station on each street corner,

And just above Sinking Creek,

You’ll find a community entirely overlooked,

Hiding on Tater Peeler road.

Here, the Wilson County Fairgrounds half gleam in the renovated sunlight.

Here, there is no difference between tarmac and dirt,

Both line roads, and tires, and floor boards, and shoes.

Here, visitors try to squeeze through a lane too small for everyone,

Crossing a bridge shouldn’t be that hard,

But the locals know which side of the road to drive on.

We follow the curves, the zigzagging road,

It twists just to shake you up.

And the church on the hill is new again

… and it’s still white after all the ash…