Ferndale

This is a poem I wrote for my hometown of Ferndale, Washington. I hope you enjoy it. Find me on [Allpoetry] (http://www.Allpoetry.com/daringreif)

My fingers still bear the splinters
From the stripping end-planks of settler's homes
And the chaff from golden wild grasses
Growing taller than Mom's laurels or even Dad.
If you listen you can hear the melodies
Of childhood songs in the clattered tempo
Of a pasture gate in the wind.

It signals, more or less, the coming of cows
Whose bellows harmonize with calls to come home
But the blackberry thorns in my jeans
Grip strong an excuse to be late to dinner.

My roots dug deeper than Whatcom willows.

Still, I close my eyes
Much like this boy in the face of
The Canadian winds
And see his blustery hair
Like whips of mossed ivy
Running up crumbled sides
Of cherished homes.

Time holds us close and huddled
But it's as if I brushed his nose
Like a wayward dandelion seed
Looking for new lands to grow.

[Link 1] (https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/comments/4aw0wt/north_brother/d183zk0) [Link 2] (https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/comments/4b5eci/i_just_want/d183ts9)