O America

Over land, sea, and air

They were transported by dreams

Landing, they scattered

Seeking the familiar

Their own

That way, they were told

As they were pointed towards the years-long maze

That concealed the recipe

And often slowed steps

Sunrise to sunset

They trample on

Picking an apple here

An apple there

Many moons have come and gone,

In sync with loses

The heat of close shaves

Uncertain cold

And new generations

As the mazes grow more complex

Watered by law and terrorism

They argue:

Like you

We are in the land of opportunity

Gathering ingredients

For our apple pies

Chebet Karago, Gaithersburg, 2007