Brown Dirt Boy

We grew from the land like willows from water 
On the banks of the Red River flow
Swimming the summers away in the lake
Hiding from winter's cold

This is the land where the mistletoe grows 
No cellophane mass-market bags
You pick it fresh, white berries and all 
Right there from the trees on the land

When I was ten they put up a tower
TV for both sides of the lake
I remember watching with rapt-faced awe
The Day the Earth Stood Still

We stored our potatoes and onions beneath
In the cool dark crawlspace below
The wood-framed house my grandfather built
Atop the hill with a view

We weren't that close, but I always remember
Stick candy when he came to see
The land that he'd nurtured and how it 
Still fared in the care of his youngest son

Many a day I spent whiling away
In the tall green grass out front
Watching the dreams float by in the sky
Planning the days to come

And though it never quite felt like home
I loved it just the same
For a boy can never forget his roots
No more than the willow tree
  

12/18/00 - Kenny A. Chaffin