'my Deep Roots'

Oh, so precious our blood and roots, yesterdays shadows creep and cling; odd, I have those attributes . . . The past lays icy hands to bring, my foundation; my formation, from the long past and dust of time; have been told sweet stories sublime. Father's ancestors came from France, with dreams of life- in a green land; they came by boat to take a chance. Grandpa worked hard as a farmhand, and his father, too; under a sky of blue . . . One day, to France I will journey, to find some names on tombs ferny. Grandma was Ojibwe, First Nation, these are people of many tales; and I hear the drum vibrations, since a child told things in details, I embrace the call; I want it all- all the teachings, the history; the tapestry and beautiful mystery. To my family thanks for all your truths, for guiding me on this path; and for all those twisted routes, since a child I followed the flutes. speaking to my heart; we will not depart- I thank you all with this tribute; for my deep roots and for my pursuits. ____________________ May 17, 2017 Poetry/Verse-Rhyme/'My Deep Roots Copyright Protected, ID 17-1160-309-0 All Rights Reserved. Written under Pseudonym. Submitted to the contest, Your Choice, Tribute sponsor, Brian Strand Honorable Mention