Guys, I haven’t written poetry since college. Probably in at least 6 years. I was forced to be prolific. So now, this blog is my push. I sat down today to blow off the dust and scrub down the rust (you see that rhyming there?) Ok, really, I wanted to get something good, real deep, down on paper today and all that came was this little ditty. I’ve been spending a lot of time on the phone with friends and family, and when people ask me what it’s like here they get a lot of, ummm, well, it’s, sorta’s…. so that might have something to do with it.
On Trying to Explain My New Home, Far Away, On the Frontier
It’s sort of beige, and really windy,
I search to find the words.
Yes people smile, and look like us,
It’s bustling but not busy.
There’s a Main Street, just one street
Lined each side by trucks,
There are parks, yes, with swings,
No, no place to feed ducks.
But that’s not it, there’s something I’m missing
The people, we’re random but bound
Like we’re stuck on the runway, the same cabin at camp
Here just trying to make a living.
We are each other’s people now, I can like it or not,
Reserved but still warm,
they seem to have grit
Not nearly as harsh as I’d thought.
Yes, I am fine here, so far from home
I tell my self starting each day,
I think I believe it, I’m starting to mean it,
I think I may just stay.