I am from a cluttered family tree and old wives' tales,
From coal-tinted clothes and the sound of our train.

I am from unridden bikes and muddy boots,
From gasping tears over puppies and kitties.

I am from The Old Lady Who Swallowed a Fly
And counting cars on her tiny porch.

I am from "mmhm, mmhm," and "scratch my back,"
And "I love you bigger than the whole sky."

I am from singing when you don't feel like it and running to Granny's house,
From apples with salt and flimsy UNO cards.

I am from a chilly room that smells of old books,
From crouching beneath barbed-wire to gather blackberries.

I am from the house on the hill, the little back room,
From the gravel driveway and rusty Ol' Blue.

I am from the Frederick heritage, the Daugherty line,
From Isaiah 40:13 and "find your wings."