Amy

I am from Mountain air
From old-fashioned ice cream parlors and dime candy
bought at the Amish store with a dollar from mama
every Saturday.
From smoke filled chimneys and piles of dry dead leaves I
raked up and jumped in.
From dance classes where I learned
far more than Grand Jetes.

I am from preachers and bartenders
from church picnics with kickball and ice skating
Granny, Pappy and Uncle Mike teaching me Rummy
around the kitchen table;
their cigarette smoke filling the air
I�m from the stream I waded across to get to the oak tree I climbed.

I am from Autumn leaves covering the sidewalk
From neighborhood children playing flashlight tag
on roads covered in multi-colored chalk drawings:
hopscotch and pictures of hearts and flowers.
I am from daddy�s garden (his pride)
strawberries, tomatoes, grapes and mint tea
planted in the backyard where my childhood began.
I am from the wooden trunk in the hallway
with aged picture albums I am not allowed to touch.