{"id":72476,"date":"2020-06-27T23:02:41","date_gmt":"2020-06-28T03:02:41","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/?p=72476"},"modified":"2020-07-25T12:52:36","modified_gmt":"2020-07-25T16:52:36","slug":"belonging-2","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/2020\/06\/belonging-2\/","title":{"rendered":"Belonging"},"content":{"rendered":"<p>\u201c\u2018In some Native languages the term for plants translates to \u201cthose who take care of us.\u201d &#8211; Robin Wall Kimmerer, Braiding Sweetgrass <\/p>\n<p>I knew from a very young age<br \/>\nmy connection to the land<br \/>\nNo small feat for a city kid<\/p>\n<p>Every summer would find me at<br \/>\nHorseshoe Lake, nestled in<br \/>\nthe Minnesota Northwoods<\/p>\n<p>Grandparent\u2019s retirement haven<br \/>\nbecame the same to me<br \/>\nonce allowed my freedom to roam<\/p>\n<p>By age nine I knew every inch of<br \/>\nthose Mission Township woods<br \/>\nsounds, smells, tastes, textures<\/p>\n<p>Woods have always called me<br \/>\nbeckoning when I needed them<br \/>\nembracing me when I arrived<\/p>\n<p>An inquisitive kid, I knew who<br \/>\nI could ask about anything:<br \/>\nMr. Hanson knew fishing<\/p>\n<p>His wife was the bird expert<br \/>\ntheir neighbor, Mrs. Wheeler<br \/>\nwas my go-to for stars, sky<\/p>\n<p>Mr. Friest understood my<br \/>\nspiritual nature, connections<br \/>\nMr. Holm found me amusing<\/p>\n<p>Old Man Reid knew wood<br \/>\ngrandma, grandpa knew a lot<br \/>\nabout a whole bunch of things<\/p>\n<p>They all knew me and how I took<br \/>\nto the woods, the water, them.<br \/>\nThey knew what the woods did.<\/p>\n<p>&#8216;This kid from the big city?<br \/>\nHere is where he belongs.<br \/>\nThis kid is one of us.&#8217;<\/p>\n<blockquote><p>\u2013 Mark L. Lucker<br \/>\n\u00a9 2020<br \/>\nhttp:\/\/lrd.to\/sxh9jntSbd<\/p><\/blockquote>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"<p>\u201c\u2018In some Native languages the term for plants translates to \u201cthose who take care of us.\u201d &#8211; 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&#8230;<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":694,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[7],"tags":[3865,3442],"class_list":["post-72476","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-marathon-poem","tag-2020hr14","tag-2020poetrymarathon"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/72476","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/694"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=72476"}],"version-history":[{"count":4,"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/72476\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":79425,"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/72476\/revisions\/79425"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=72476"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=72476"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=72476"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}