I am from degradable laundry detergent, from tacky fridge magnets and dried marigold chains
I am from overflowing bookshelves and cold tile floors under my feet
I am from the Las Trampas wildflowers and the wise old cottonwood whose long-gone limbs I remember as if they were my own.
I’m from picnics at the river and harvesting strawberries, from Harrison and Fonseca.
I’m from “Á comer!” And sweet dreams
I’m from pie cherries and the acequias whose long-gone limbs I remember as if they were my own.
I’m from work hard, play harder, and be thankful
I’m from Dixon
from bean burritos and blue corn pancakes, noodle soup and angel food cake, from my father’s strong shoulders and my mother’s farmer hands
from digging carrots, long car rides, and the highway sunflowers whose long-gone limbs I remember as if they were my own
