M's Poem - "I Miss"

I miss the smell of red dirt
I miss the steam when the rain wets the hot red dirt
I walk on red dirt to home to eat my lunch
I can smell the lunch - it's spicy!
I sit on the bench to eat my gray injera and red spicy shiro
I walk with my family on red road dirt to the church made of white painted rock and brick
The people inside and outside are dressed up all white
Outside the gate the needy plead for coins and food
Some sit on the rich red dirt
At the airport I do not see red dirt
Pavement covers my red friend
A long and uncomfortable ride to America and now I miss my red dirt.