I’m from the ping ping of the rain on the A/C outside my window.

I’m from sunlight drifting on the floor as days grow longer.

I’m from the sounds of mamma in the kitchen in the morning.

From radio on while I do homework.
And lights that you pull a string to turn on.

I’m from leaky ceilings and the plaster to fix them.
From a squirrel nest on the fire escape.

From the pear tree outside our window on 7th Avenue.
It bloomed like popcorn in the spring until they cut it down.

I’m from that smell of home when I get back from a long trip.