The neighborhood in my heart

Of the neighborhood in my heart, I will say but a few things,
As the bard of the asphalt, I will quietly sing:
That the summer smells like sunscreen and pond water, popsicles and tears,
That the fall smells of acorns and Halloween fears,
That the winter smells of snow days and sledding down the street,
That the spring smells of wet rainboots pulled from wetter feet.
That in the creaking of clapboard and the pounding of rain,
In the stripes of sunshine and the scraped-kneed pain,
In the walls I have lived within my entire life,
In good times and bad times, happiness and strife,
There is one house and one love,
The warmest embrace,
The feeling of stubble tickling my face,
The taste of potpie for dinner and salad for lunch,
The sharp stinging odor of freshly laid mulch.
There is biking till sundown and the neighborhood school.
There is my house, warm in winter, and in summer, cool.