I, too, am from a sift of lost faces
from patterns I can’t untangle
from an endless string of cats purring
from tall pines and the hum of box fans in the window
from Carolina humidity and red dirt
and Spanish moss dripping everywhere
like paint from my sloppy brush, messy
And now, I am from here.
(snippet from a writing prompt using the classic George Ella Lyon poem, Where I’m from, a poem that has inspired many, many poems, and is one of my favorites.)
eeo 
Deeply evocative. xxx
“from tall pines and the hum of box fans in the window…”❤️
I love your drawings. They speak of cosy places and simple life.
I love your words too.
“I am from patterns I can’t untangle”
Yes. So many blurred lines…
💕