I am from a five year old boy, longing to be a firefighter
saving lives of frogs in my yard, putting on BAND-AIDS,
extinguishing bon-fires.

From Benny Goodman and Glenn Miller,
softly wafting through the halls.
Forming my old fashion ways.

I am from playing Army in the backyard,
avoiding the hails of nonexistent
gunfire screaming.

From the unremarkable house in the cul de sac,
green like the surrounding oak.
Flush with excitement like a prairie.

I am from protracted, green, sweet grass,
flowing like unkempt hair in the breeze
as the mower sits idle, waiting.

From the dark, green, impermeable forest,
hunting deer like a wolf stalks it’s prey.
Finding peace through nature.

I am from the fire engine. Bright red and pristine, sitting prepared,
roaring to life in pursuit of the next fire with the air,
heavy in anticipation.

From my first roaring and ferocious house fire
to the time spent at the station.
Fighting fire and sickness

I am that little boy, longing to be a better firefighter,
saving human lives in the community, putting on tourniquets,
extinguishing car fires