It is the dead of winter, and from the kitchen window,

The oldest child watches her siblings play and tackle each other in the snow.

The once blooming apple trees in the backyard are now bare and beautifully cloaked in a white blanket.

Their neighbor, and classmate, is walking his dog. It seems to be a neighborhood banquet.

The silent-­overseer and he exchange waves, friendly since nativity.

The attention is now back to the siblings, who have ceased their lively festivity.

This scene brings back so many fond memories

It was the backyard; the center of friendly, competitive activities.

All types of games, the activities would start with a just few

and blossom into neighborhood extravaganzas with friends and parents too

The scenic view makes one feel safe, warm and content,

knowing that the yard, and the town, will always bring about exultent.

The place where one learned to compete and collaborate,

to fight and apologize, to care and ignore, to win and to lose and congratulate.

That crying and laughing are all part of the game,

And no matter the outcome, the love for the life and the land stay the same.

Some have said that growing up in a small town sets you back in life,

This statement alone has brought about so much strife.

But the yard, the town, the neighbors, and friends, have always provided

An environment that blossoms a strong, caring, nurturing dahlia that is far from misguided.

As a result, the progeny of this town are not so different

From the apple trees in the backyard with their current icy­-blue pigment.

Even in the harshest throes of winter, their roots are strong and deep,

And they are prepared to blossom when spring arrives; a lesson they get to keep.