Who Are We Here?

This Land Is Home

This is a poem written for a Grade Twelve English project and was gifted to my grandparents afterwards.

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This land is flat
Of widespread prairies, grasslands, and snow Of colours in Maple, Walnut, and Oak
Of a mysterious land running and flows
Of Hayfields and Wheat growing row by row Of mists and fogs of early spring
Of morning dew and Robin's sing

This land is peaceful
With slopes and turns in every meadow
With flowers blooming under sacred Willows With a rising sun seen from the East to the West With precious gems of friendly folk nest
With nature turns and sinful pines
With fires burn and rocky mines

This land is rolling
Of hills and valleys high and low
Of skies seen for miles wide and bowed Of weeds and pollen and bees
Of furs, saps, and sweets
Of apple fritter sweet and fresh
Of winter's bitter cold and thresh

This land is gleaming
With golden smiles and shining stars
With darkened skies as storms are far
With birds chirps ringing and flying by With lightning strikes and winds will fly With soundly sleeps of slumber and dreams With wisdom keeps that lock like beams

This land is proud
Of magnificent beauty, passion, and woe

Of gracing seas of wind twined and sowed
Of a setting sun, and a moon rising to the sky
Of an open wave with birds passing by and by
Of lights starring brighter than winters white sheet Of an impact with love and hate which meet

This land is calm
With tall, strong briar Evergreens and rushing, white caped streams With its lively hood and continuous chanting seems
With its astounding views and unique culture
With its precious shapes and forms and life beautifully sculptured With its wondrous capture of treasures admire
With its picture-perfect factor and remarkable desire

This land is home

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