Indiana

I miss the barefoot treks along a dew glossed field of grass, And the hinting cool of autumn’s morning breeze, The trees that gently rustle in the gentle pulsing wind, Crowned in flowing masts of red and yellow leaves, The wind sends ripples dancing cross a shallow weedy lake, As the maple seeds are dwindling to the ground, No matter time or distance from my home in Indiana, I will not forget her soothing sights and sound. Cornfields flowing briskly ‘neath the humid summer sun, As in countless rows they stand and stretch for miles, The tapestry of farmers fields along the flattened plains, And the smell of fresh cut hay that’s raked in piles, But there in sight the fields conclude and brush against the woods, Home of dear, and rabbit, squirrel, raccoon and fox, The muddy watered Wabash cuts a path throughout the forest, And its waters burble cross the mossy rocks. For ten years now I’ve wondered all across this placid globe, Passing continents and oceans as I went, But the bold aroma wafting from the sycamores is calling, When I close my eyes I still can smell the scent, To journey on I’ll surely do, my life is on the road, And the path is still ahead that I must roam, But no matter where I someday settle down to live and work, Indiana will forever be my home!