An Ode to my Twin

We hunted for hummingbird's nest 
woven with our horses hair, 
to gift to our mother 
so years later we could reminisce 
through her china cabinet. 
In return, she gave us the finest fibers, 
from angora to mohair 
to play Cat's Cradle with. 
Our home was a jungle, 
filled with adored felines 
and our mom singing Patsy Cline 
to her passionflower vine. 
We would graze in the garden 
on pea pods and chives,
they held us over as we gathered 
the birdhouse gourds and goose eggs 
to bring inside and paint. 
We would jump from 
one big round bale to the other, 
imagining a world of our own. 
Driving around, 
pa would challenge us on 
who was singing on the radio, 
and what type of muscle car just drove past. 
Arriving home late, 
he would have us stand with him
in the driveway and
tell us the tales of the constellations, 
as we looked up with wide eyes. 
Summer days were spent on Worthy pond; 
sailing with dad who wouldn't hide his chain smoking.
Captivated by craw fish,
and attempting to swim across 
with one shared inner tube. 
We stacked hay in the August heat 
and followed my mom around with her fishing pole 
in the old brooks she grew up in. 
We picked blackberries, 
chased snakes, 
and had full fledged wars 
with crab apples and black walnuts as our weapons. 
Riding our horses on long trails, 
we pretended we were outlaws, bandits, and gunslingers.
We would make our way up the road to Grandpa's 
to watch The Simpsons and old westerns, 
eating all of his cereal before returning home.