My California Calls Me Home
Poetry Entry for "Our California" Poet Laureate Prject
My poem has published. Find it at: Our California - California Arts Council
My California Calls Me Home
My California welcomes this native daughter
home on freeways split
by medians of eucalyptus and oleander
where speed limit construction zones warn 55
and golden morning sun streams onto my dash
My California is dripping with juicy oranges
hanging in groves that murmur to me of dolls
and playing in the dirt under those trees while
grandparents hulked and climbed picking ladders
wiping dirty sweat on soiled aprons
My California smells like cattle ranching and dairy farming
the pungent scent of manure and grazing fields lifting
up and into my passing windows while
lowing in unison reaches my ears and
silohs reach for the sky
My California brings the sharp, fruity bitterness
of fresh pressed olive oil to roadside market stands
amid vast acres of silvery green spiked leaves
on fat, full heritage trees that remember
their Spanish cousins who first planted them in this soil
My California calls me, remembers me, rocks me in its
embrace where the exact center is marked by palm next to pine and a slivered moon peeks in weak glow
through the famous wall of Tule fog buffeting
my car as I sail down this freeway for old home.
I was born in California, in the fertile San Joaquin Valley. Growing up there was magical in ways, but I longed for adventure and faraway places. In my adulthood, I have been able to range far and wide, partially satisfying my wanderlust that will likely never be fully sated.
I haven’t lived in California for almost two decades now, but these days, it tugs on me in new ways each time I visit. When my friend,
wrote his poem called My California, I enjoyed the read, savoring and soaking up My Own California from amongst his words.When he, as Poet Laureate of California, created a project called “Our California” and called for Californians to write poems about our state, I leapt at the challenge. The prompt [loosely] was to write what California means to us, how we see it, and to somehow translate its texture for readers. I wrote the above poem in fits and starts using voice recorder technology during my last trip to California. I let it ruminate for several weeks before forming it into it current solid state.
My family has asked if I am missing California and if this poem means I am ready to move back there. The answers are yes, and no. I won’t say never, but I will say not yet.
If you are from California, or have made California your home, you may also answer the call and write a peom for the California Arts Council. Follow this link to learn more.
Beautiful poem. I was in California for many months back in the 80s. My California was fabulous too. It's a special place. xx
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