The Place I Belong.
by Michael L. Craver The mythical yellow oven, Origin of the flavors resurrected for holidays, A sanctuary with the hospitality we strive to embody Out of school, but on the farm, Getting a Master Class for a sick day, Counting the new houses during our Sunday drive Few times had I ever seen him shed a tear, Sitting in the orange chair, shaking his fist toward the television, Maya Angelou was speaking before the man from Arkansas was sworn, Bic pen resting on the crossword, Overalls rise and fall with the rhythm of each snore, She’s rubbing black socks in her lap, Hearing the whispered joke, A subconscious hand raises to cover- Where a legendary cackle is rocking her recliner, Sweet wisdom shared through story, Narration brings Bill’s photo albums to life, Now absent are the questions of why or where… Living history points on a mountain top, Wheat bread shiny with the crumbles of a broken wheel, Experiencing a High Rock on a pontoon, Transcending a Rocky Mountai