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

“I Am From”

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.

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

I’m from don’t eat the red berries and don’t touch that, and twinkle twinkle little star, I’m from hiking hard trails, I’m 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

Durango