For Love of Iowa

Snow, snow, drifting down on little towns and farms, Snow, snow glistens on the oaks’ and maples’ arms. River, river from the north, with thaw of ice it flows, Mighty Mississippi, past my little hometown goes. Blooms, blooms, pretty blooms, and lilacs scent the air. Blooms, blooms paint the land beneath a rainbow fair. Hills, hills, soft and rolling, low and grassy mounds, Hills, hills, some are ancient natives’ burial grounds. Stars, stars, flitting stars that wink in twilight skies, Stars, stars, tiny stars are summer’s fireflies! Corn, corn, fields of corn, so wide and green and high. Corn, corn, stalks of corn keep reaching to the sky. Leaves, leaves dance on streets while children walk to school, Leaves that tango, red and gold, as days and nights grow cool. Home, home, harvest home, where crops are gathered in, Home sweet home, as I recall, is hearth of kith and kin.