Wallowa, Oregon

A dip in the lake or rivers
Is more like a plunge into ice.
Picking wild huckleberries
Fresh, right off the bush
And eating them...
That's where I'm from.
Stopping at the only
Fast food stop in town
Burgers and chickenstrips
Are like candy for the nose.
Not a single traffic light-
Not one- in the whole county.
Beating drums heard
From a quarter of a mile away
Helping me to sleep.
I miss the grainy dirt
Of Grandma's vast garden.
I miss the openess
And seeing every single star at night.
I miss those mountains-
Especially the one that looks
Like Chief Joseph.
I miss Tick Hill
Looming over the town.
The thing I hear most
When I go there now
Is "Is that you?
My, how you've grown!"
I miss my tiny
Tourist attraction county,
Hillbilly Hell.
I miss my home,
It's history.
I miss Wallowa, Oregon.