Hometown

The sun shines brightly atop the
Faithful blue sky, as the wind blows
and cracks stalks of tanned wheat.

The day goes on slowly, taking time
to stop and smell roses, fresh wheat,
Instead of the hurry, furry, and scurry
of the crowded city streets -
This culture of solitude is heaven.

Main Street is from a classic Western,
Old, wrinkled men sit on benches,
Chewing sticky tobacco in their
Authentic leather cowboy boots.
The smell of spicy Mexican food
Floats through the air to everyone,
Swirling in with starched potatoes.

One street leads to the humble church,
In the middle of the town, reflecting
Religion as the center of their lives.
One street leads to the fields,
Acres and acres of tan and green,
Reflecting their livelihood of farming.

The sound of nothing penetrates the air,
As the crisp autumn wind rustles
Down the one rocky path leading
to the old abandoned houses
Where we still discover antiques and
Our imagination comes to life
As we return to Grandpa’s small farm
In Aberdeen, Idaho.