To California:
You are a land of gold and opportunity
the manifest destiny grasped
the cradle of many too-distant friends.

To Ohio:
You are halfway across the country
the destination of a poignantly-missed friend
the cradle of a new beginning for her
the end of our era.

To Oregon:
Rivers between us, pumping blue blood to the sea
in you, I stumbled from girl into woman
in you, I woke up and stood up, and
made the first memories I treasure.

To Canada:
You are my parent as much as America
a cleaner, calmer shadow of your sister
more vast than words can encapsulate,
an undiscovered prairie of 100-person towns
beautiful and insulated, insects drowning in amber.
Oil pumps in canola fields
twisted pines from the Dark Ages
atop mountains green with August snowmelt
impossibly broad skies and midnight suns
dancing under the northern lights in my cousin's wedding.
You gave me a
plastic bag with two passports, cracking open
the world.

To Washington:
You are the ever-green land
vibrant and beautiful in my memory and before my eyes
the thrumming of Seattle music,
the steam of fresh coffee on perfect grey skies
warm sweatshirts and jeans that fit just right
copper hair curling perfectly on my shoulders
poetry reading in cafe basements
excitement at discovering my voice.
You are the cradle of my closest friends
my bitterest regrets sweetening my
hang-over coffee.
You were my first start
and every new beginning after that.
You were my first home
and you will be my last.