Iowa

I am Iowa: fertile and productive. 

I am strings of corn rows bending over contoured hills etched by water flowing from unknown to unknown. 

I am soil, deep and active, sticky in March and dusty in August. I am a rock in winter. 

I am rivers with sand bars and muddy bottoms, with all sorts of growing things. 

I am the stars and moon to light the path. I am the ruddy morning, bright noonday, and the purple violet evening sky. 

I am Iowa: a birthplace,  a resting place,  a living place.