Ohio
She wears an apron of quilted pastures
pucntuated by buildings so high.
She thinks it's unusually natural
to have cornstalks reach to the sky.
In between more famous neighbors she sits
squashed by mountains, rivers and lakes
Yet across the seasons she quietly knits
history and heartbreak within her stakes.
She keeps a (buck) eye on her children
despite valley fog or factory smoke..
Whether her windows are screened or torn
She wraps them in God's loving cloak.
She may not have diamonds in the sky
Her face and words may appear too plain
She will be a friend without asking why
and her actions will never be in vain.
7/24/11
(driving on I-71 toward Cincinnati)
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