When I leave
I want to carry
the Carolina clay on my clothes.
I want to come back in the summer
when city heat is stifling
and feel wind whipping curls back into my
hair. I want
barely hanging onto a tube, knowing
if I fall Lake Norman will catch me.
I will always come back to
Boone, hiking to the fire tower,
confetti everywhere on the 4th
and shooing peacocks off cars
only to call turkeys.
I want to cook Shipwreck for my kids
like Great Granny. Like her
I want to move
bravely
through the world
and still
always come home.
