By the looks of the soles
of my feet and between my toes,
in my hair, rubbed into my panties—
head to toe—I’ve already become
a PEI red-dirt girl.
For this is the Island of Red,
red cliffs, red sands, red rocks,
red stones, red soil and red ribbons
of unpaved roads unfurling from
blue sky to blue St. Lawrence sea;
through green fields of hay and badadas,
past blue herons in blue marshes,
the blue trim of white fishing boats
in harbour.
Walking away unshod, roughshod, I ruddy
my steps. I paint ripples of red mud
on my face. I twirl down the lane
to Malpeque Bay, a reveler
in the red of Prince Edward.
I redden, ready to be now Red Earth mother.
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