Poem: SmallTalkBig

Where are you from?
I ask not the typical question;
I mean how you would paint yourself,
Whence you’re developing your core.
I mean that I see myself in a nest of mazes,
Colors and meandering wildflower ideas,
Being wholly comfortable in complexities,
And simultaneously needing to gulp down more air,
Flirting with reality and dousing it with dreams.
I mean that I’m from the rolling hills that
Shift with the freckles of the clouds,
Uncertain but in love with the possibilities.
I mean that I’m hugged by the warming hearth,
A soundscape of endless conversations,
Of openness on the ground, lightness in space,
Making me ask next: What tickles your soul?