bare sandstone

in my earliest memories
you were granite

We lived on an old farm in Maine until I was five, and I imprinted strongly on the bare granite outcrops that dotted the pastures and lake shore. I realized yesterday that must have something to do with why I love walking Appalachian ridges—all that exposed rock.

Someone on Facebook thought this might be a reference to my late father, which hadn’t occurred to me—at least, not consciously.

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