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Roots

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I’m from a whirling winter blizzard
the chilled bones and wet eyes
from hot cocoa
a scalding welcome from the storm
the slippery sidewalks
like ice skating rinks filling the streets

I’m from the fresh air of the country
the long winding roads
like the veins on the back of my hands
the smell of bond fires in the summer
the glowing ends of lightning bugs
I’m from sunning with lemon juice in my hair
Eating peanuts popsicles and cherries poolside

I am from the cold water creek
housing the grotesque creatures
slithering under our feet
the nuts and shells
sent down the river like Moses in the reeds
I am from the bark of my dogs
echoing off cherry blossoms

I am from the Sunday morning drives
in that old Volvo
the Sunday radio announcers
whose voices occupied the esteemed front seat next to my father
the French treats
that bribed us to go to Synagogue
I am from ferries
Bringing us to fishy New England

I am from my childhood
From the seasons
that fill my memories and dreams





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