To My Hometown
Dear, I’ve been untrue
I’ve been away and
I’ve forgotten how lovely you are.
You wear time like an old wedding dress:
the red paint chipping off the farms,
that yellow brick house on State Street,
oak trees in front yards with roots
resting at the center of the world.
Once I dug for gold in the creek
winding and trickling through town
but the gold is in the green;
the dandelions and purple violets
lacing the ground like a veil.
So today, before I go,
I will be your something borrowed
and the sky your something blue.