Oh,
The sweetcorn across the border,
Through Grant,
tempts me
so.
Spotting Hawkeyes
and Cyclones.
I can see the tall pins in the distance
Marking steeples in Dubuque,
And west banks of the River
Glisten.
Beauty without refute.
But my home holds me here
In the emerald hills
Of the driftless southwestern
Nook of Wisconsin.