I am from the pond in the hollar
From Watkins Vanilla Extract
Buttermilk churning while snapping peas on the front porch.
I am from the place where the smell of hay permeates the air
A gentle wind blows through the pines
While children read a book propped up against their napping horse.
I am from the rose bush
The apple orchard behind Papaw's house.
I am from family reunions and singing around the piano at holidays.
I am from "I'll swanney" and "Aw, shucks" and there ain't nothin' Jesus can't fix, honey.
From love your neighbor and your word is your bond.
I am from the Methodist circuit rider who built a Baptist church and then found Pentecost.
I'm dinner on the ground Sundays
Tractor tire swings
Sprinklers cooling off the dog days of Mississippi summers.
I’m from Rienzi by way of Tishomingo and Appalachia
by way of England, Ireland, and Scotland.
From fried chicken
Mamaw's pecan pies
Sun-ripened strawberries eaten right off the vine.
From Powder Puff derby racer
Farmer picking cotton for fifty cents a day.
A corn crib filled with lazy afternoon memories
My great-aunt's painting of a green-clad girl
In the reflection of my children's eyes.
This post is part of Mama Kat's Losin' It Writing Prompt Link-Up. To view the template for this poem, click here.