There are places

 

There are places

where clouds draw tourists

and millions and millions of stars grace the night.

There are places

where you wake up to birds chirping

and the only traffic you hear

is the tractors churning up the earth.

There are places

where women grow their hair long

and men’s arms turn red

while hanging out of the truck

because a rolled down window

is the only air conditioning you’ll ever need.

There are places

where the dust is more polluting than the smog.

Places where

the tress out grow the buildings

and the buildings out grow you.

Places where

the summers go on and on

and the country meets the sky.

Places where

you know every face

and strangers yield their right of way.

Places where a neighbor is family

and an open field

is a child’s favorite toy.

Places where

you can smell nature

and feel the sun.

Places where

every road, house, park, street corner

has a memory.

Places where

strangers smile,

men bow their hats,

open doors,

pull out chairs,

and call their wives ‘mamma.’

There are places

where the night is peaceful and silent.

The night harbors animal conversations.

The night is dark.

There are places where the county fair is the main event

and your best friend

is the greatest celebrity you know.

There are places

where tight jeans

and cowboy hats are welcomed

and men work hard.

There are places

where no one’s talking about war

but gossip fills the void.

There are places

where small minds run rapid

and you think your mother may just suffocate you.

There are places

where the football team defines you

and you wear their colors proudly.

There are places

where your dreams are vast

and the land is wild.

And there are days

where I can’t help but smile

because there are places like this.

I call them

small towns.