Remember the warmth of that summer rain home
The dry grass and brick walls of that never-quite-sane home?
Grasshoppers and stray cats over dry yellow grass
The wailing creak of a forever front porch swing-chained home
The geckos caught by starlight leave wiggling tails in hand
Butterflies scour the bluebonnet ridden plane. Home.
People’s odd drawls and trucks freckled with mud
Remember the Alamo and all that were slain home
But Erin living so many miles and snow days and cities away
Is this land of early childhood still yours to claim? Home.