I Am from Home
I am from a red-clay road rolling with dust after each passing car
from a long bed of irises - purple, white, yellow, and maroon
from two cars out front one with 4 doors, one with a bed, two humps, and a tailgate
from a front porch with a dachshund named Noodles lying on the step, a screen door that slams, and a panoramic view of the
I am from tassel-topped corn stalks, thorny blackberry vines, and staked tomato plants bringing the flavors of summer
from a formica kitchen table surrounded by six chairs and a stool
from little glass Pepsi bottles, black angus beef, and homemade ice cream hand-cranked by strong brothers
from sit-down dinners, lingering while the food settles, and sisters washing dishes by hand.
I am from Curtis Ray - “Handy as a pocket on a shirt”
from Gladys Adelle -“Busy hands are happy hands”
from trotline catfish dangling off Grandpa’s stringer
from quilts and afghans labors of love from Grandma’s worn hands.
I am from Ben Franklin’s, Piggly Wiggly, and a fifteen-cent Tastee Freeze cone with a curlicue on top
from a picture window, an attic fan, an antenna on the roof for a black-and-white television
from football games on Friday nights, cartoons on Saturday mornings, and church twice on Sundays
from pot luck suppers, “Count Your Many Blessings,” pass the offering plate, in Jesus’ name, Amen.
I am from a place that is real
from a time that has past
from bonds that endure
I am from home.