Roots

I am not from here...
my hair smells of the wind
from the ocean,
and my blood carries
a savage nature
a Gift from my
Paint Tribe Grandfather.
The sun was my babysitter,
and I moved about the world
with a healthy laughter,
as my mother,
with moods of an opal,
instilled a curious freedom
that was harnessed gently
by my father's wisdom
and stoic integrity.
I grew up carefree
and hardworking,
using logs as my pulpits,
finding God in simplicity,
listening to the sermons of canaries,
and weaving chains of dandelions.