I have lived in Rockland County for most of my life.

I moved here when I was three years old, and have been here ever since.
I think I am pretty lucky to have my lifetime memories rooted here, and it's hard for me to imagine what it would be like growing up somewhere else.

Living somewhere so long has its drawbacks, though, because you begin to forget to appreciate what's around you.

The other day on my way to class, I was taken aback by the beauty of the fall leaves on the trees that line the road, by the bright sky, and the mountains in the distance. And so, I thought it would be suitable to capture my admiration for Rockland in the best way I can: with a poem.

Trees form the streets.

Each trunk is steady

in the ground, with

borders of green leaf

piles, sometimes red,

orange, or

yellow

double lines and stop

signs that we know by

heart.

Trace the hills, scale the

mountaintops with

your fingertips—

skyscrapers of dirt and mud.

Climb the resistance,

drive through

wooded nature

grazed with deer,

and sometimes, even

a bear,

on the mountain that

seems so small.

We feel its presence.

Fresh air meets stream water.

They rush through beaten

paths, built by footsteps

and stone, loved by

summer sunshine

reflections that

linger on through

season changes with

each day.

Hudson river currents

tell time, our sea

wall is a safe haven.

Grass measures distance

from house to house,

neighbors we have known,

will always know,

in this place,

in our