I am from Country

    Poem ELNG 205   April 12, 2008

                                                                    

                                                       I am from farm machinery

And ice cream sandwiches

From Grandma Darcia’s deepfreeze.

 

I am from sunsets and push lawnmowers,

Baby kitties and abandoned bird nests.

From hard work,

And “if you want a car, get a job!”

 

I am from campfires, and Ukrainian traditions,

From tools clanging in the garage,

From coyote howls, and mud puddles.

 

I am from pretend and straw bales,

Video cameras, and ideas,

From books, cattails, wood slivers,

Old hats from the basement,

And from the sound of gravel crunching beneath my feet.

 

I’m from the creek that runs

From one end of the universe to the other,

Cold cereal, and gooseberries

(“Why do you like those things anyway; they’re sour!”)

And from, “No, Lindsay, I don’t want to hear the poem you just wrote.”

 

I’m from quad and snowmobile,

Tomboy and pellet guns,

Shiney rocks, and being forced to wear this stupid blouse,

And ugly green birthstone.

 

I am from watermelon and burning barrels,

Being excited to go to Yorkton,

From toy tractors, and moats in wet sand,

From having my own room,

And you get your first fishing rod what your five.

 

I’m from trying cigarettes on the playground,

Wind, trees, and yellow school buses,

From exploring old buildings and hockey games,

And “I’ll give you two bits to hill potatoes.”

 

I’m from earthworms, tadpoles, salamanders,

Games of Hide’N’Seek at midnight,

From making forts and being the leader,

And being smart; sweetheart; and trying my best.

 

I am from learning to express myself

Differently than everyone else,

From feelings, rainbows, memories

(The good and the bad),

From a place where imagination lives

And growing up happens.

That’s where I’m from.

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