“‘In some Native languages the term for plants translates to “those who take care of us.” – Robin Wall Kimmerer, Braiding Sweetgrass

I knew from a very young age
my connection to the land
No small feat for a city kid

Every summer would find me at
Horseshoe Lake, nestled in
the Minnesota Northwoods

Grandparent’s retirement haven
became the same to me
once allowed my freedom to roam

By age nine I knew every inch of
those Mission Township woods
sounds, smells, tastes, textures

Woods have always called me
beckoning when I needed them
embracing me when I arrived

An inquisitive kid, I knew who
I could ask about anything:
Mr. Hanson knew fishing

His wife was the bird expert
their neighbor, Mrs. Wheeler
was my go-to for stars, sky

Mr. Friest understood my
spiritual nature, connections
Mr. Holm found me amusing

Old Man Reid knew wood
grandma, grandpa knew a lot
about a whole bunch of things

They all knew me and how I took
to the woods, the water, them.
They knew what the woods did.

‘This kid from the big city?
Here is where he belongs.
This kid is one of us.’

– Mark L. Lucker
© 2020
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