The Already Brown America

The already brown America

Built brown, colonized, and cultivated.

Brush strokes of brown sugar reflected in an Autumn leaf

Tough to swallow, hard to accept it or see.

Sweet brown maple nectar, the bark, and their trees,

Streams, the breeze over the brown Mississippi and seas.

"Sometimes that wind blows, eventually she gon leave.

That's Mother Nature for ya."

Eventually she calms.

Trees of Tierra del Fuego; South American,

Brown pods and Cocoa leaves,

South, North, West, and East

Native or Indigenous people; 

None of which anyone preaching, 'America', is either

Totem Poles; Western Brown-ish Red Cedar,

A reach to grace,

It's heavenly skies in high vinyl notes clinched to ancestry ties,

Finally casting a light.

The brown, the yellow, the black, the colors of sand dunes and ridges that slice the landscape.

Perched in Arizona to illustrate,

Canvas' as if it were hand picked, displaying proud, polished, and sanded,

And if inside it peaks and thrives a breach to rise,

Sweeter than brown honey-comb,

The already brown America.

Reviews

[Nariko]

I like how rich and smooth this poem is. I also like the theme of the already brown america