Poem author Kyra Millich (in front) and Stacy her sister (the duck whisperer) at the beach.

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Outside aka Home

By Kyra Millich

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Morgan Hill.

Beyond feral. Beyond wild. Beyond beyond.

Toes sink into mud

to the legs

to the side

to the midriff

to my heart –

arms held up to the sky with giggles as my sisters pull me out.

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A place that’s dry with a lake that’s soft.

Calm and wonderful place where anything is possible.

Search for diamonds – find geodes with sparkling magic.

Wild cats follow me home and let me pet them.

A duckling does the same with my sister.

–

I love my home – my wild place –

it’s just me and the fleas and the mud on the lake.

Protected by the Witch Tree –

a towering oak with hanging Spanish moss.

A cascading mountain of rosemary bushes

wafts through my senses as I careen down the driveway

and swerve at the very last second –

fearless and proud on my big wheel.

–

My home is hot and dry and wooden and very California.

It smells dry. My hair is dry. My skin is dry –

and scratched and bruised and dirty

from digging holes with rocks

and slooping through the mud.

–

Morgan Hill is untamed nature –

full of love and hope and wild wild wild.

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Feral cat girl in her domain.