Where I'm From

I am from muddy boots
from weather-worn Levis and ballcaps.
I am from the state of the peach.
Warm, never-ending sunshine, bittersweet Autumn winds
It iced the tip of my nose.


I am from the cotton fields,
the live oak,
that stood up strong, even when it hailed.


I’m from the sailing and loud speaking,
from Amy and Derek.
I’m from the strong-willed
and stubborn-minded.
From Give Me Some Sugar! and Roll Tide Roll!
I’m from the church choir on Sundays
and the preacher with the Bible
and the pews in the second to last row.


I’m from the Cazenovia and Fairhope Branch.
Biscuits with gravy and peach cobbler.
From the antique dolls in the glass case at my great-grandfather’s house,
to the bonfires in the summer with my grandfather.


I am from apple pie in Autumn,
from fresh squeezed lemonade in the Summer.
I’m from Cherokee Roses in spring,
frost covered Pine branches in the winter.
I am from wooden playgrounds,
from old libraries.
I am from the smell of dew on the grass in the morning,
and the moist, heavy air in the afternoon.
I am from the train whistle in early dawn,
and the cicadas at twilight.


I’m from rain pouring down on the roof,
the lulling sound of the wind slapping the shutters.
I am from the droughts in Summer,
the iced roads in winter.


I am from open skies,
dotted with snow white clouds,
soft like a tuft of cotton.
I’m from the stars at night,
glittering like diamonds
thrown against black velvet.


I am from home-cooking.
From stained pots and pans.
I’m from old trinkets,
ornaments, salt-shakers, snow globes.
They sat on a dusty shelf.
I am from the grand piano
that lived beside the hearth.
Keys of ivory, black and white,
finely written notes in black ink
against a crisp sheet of paper.


Kept on my bedside are wooden frames
Snapshots of memories
Too many faces to remember,
too many faces to forget
I am from those moments
Like the dead leaves in the wind
Whisked from place to place,
taking memories with me as I go.