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Rated: E · Poetry · Holiday · #2203142
In observance of October 14.
So this is a day for people rooted like tall trees,
folks native to this country, occurring naturally,
tightly bound, like the center of the atom.
Here reside the indigenous people
of Montana and Louisiana, or the
California coast, or Vermont, or
Virginia, Florida and Michigan
and all fifty states of these
wonderful United States…
The people here, breathing air
salted by Atlantic’s common kick,
tasting the tart of the orchard apples,
feeling refreshing summer rains on napes
scorched by July sun in South Dakota badlands…
Home-grown beings we, having this day, our day of
October to savor sunsets, the orange and reds of
maples parading autumn’s scenic landscape,
to join collectively in fraternal kinship for
indigenous sake, to laugh and enjoy
all afforded us in freedom and
opportunity, to not talk down,
but across in civility and
love, to celebrate our
day in the style of
Walt Whitman;
a self-song,

28 Lines
Writer’s Cramp Winner
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