I’ve got northern blood running through my veins
Though I’ve got my father’s brown western skin stretched across my bones.
Bones larger than normal.
Bones made for lasting out the winter
With a quick smile and a jovial spirit that lasts just as long.
Right down to the block head my grandpa’s always jabbering on about.
But I’m never picked out.
Never pointed at and said “You, you’re of the North”
But when I take out my heart and stare at it
It’s got blue and yellow pumping through it.
A touch of snow and pine to it.
I may look like a western.
Like a mutt of the colonies all smashed together.
But in my heart.
My heart is from the North.