Poem reminds of Durango’s beauty

This poem was written by my 12-year-old grandson who was born in Durango but had to move away because of his dadís work. He misses Durango deeply and has demonstrated those feelings beautifully in his writing. Letís not take for granted the beauty that surrounds us.

ďI Am FromĒ

by Evan McCown

I am from the green vines in my room,

From the smell of paper and brown wood,

I am from the wood floor and white walls, the peaceful silence of night, I am the bright moon, The lightning-split pine, whose long-gone limbs I remember as if they were my very own.

Iím from balsa wood stars and strategy board games, from noisy brother and peaceful Grandma, Iím from yelling loudly and playing outside, and from reading at night.

Iím from donít eat the red berries and donít touch that, and twinkle twinkle little star, Iím from hiking hard trails, Iím from Durango, Colorado, and the Animas River,

Warm pizza and toasty lasagna,

From when grandma skipped like a rock on the lake, she loves the outdoors, shining, dull, pretty, cool, in beautiful box.

Janice McCown


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