National Poetry Month Challenge - Day 5

[wordsrmylife]

I am from rounded hills
    and ankle-aching cold clearwater
    brooks tumbling the roughest
    granite smooth, grinding
    quartz to sand.

I am from church steeples
    rising above ever-changing trees,
    bells tolling the hour,
    echoed by the lead cow
    headed barn-ward.

I am from make it do
    or do without, and pennies pinched
    so hard Lincoln's beard is shaved,
    where nothing is wasted,
    not even words.

--Katherine Quimby Johnson. All rights reserved.

This "I am" poem was inspired by George Ella Lyon's poem, which I read years and years ago and filed away with the thought that I'm from a different place. I don't think I'm done, but for now, this will do.