Where I'm From

I am from stacks of papers,

from stoneware vases with celadon glaze,

from computers humming and beckoning

with knowledge of everything.

I am from neglected rose bushes that prosper,

and wildflowers that don’t,

From a lilac bush that gladdens me every spring,

With its sweet fresh smell after winter.

I am from squeaky dog toys,

left in the yard on rainy nights,

by the big serious dog,

and from autumn leaves dragged in,

by the little monkey dog.

I am from Lily, as she is from me,

and from Brian,

and from Phyl and Aunt Ruth,

and a surburb of NYC.

I am from Okey, bedokey, Gemini smokey,

and pizza, lasagna,

and marzipan

and look:

Isn’t that Dan Boone?

No?  Well, there you go…

I am from these moments,

in a house in the tree tops

amid singing birds and gray clouds,

but still

I’m not.