The trees in Indiana
Form bowers over our roads,
Shades of green in summer
And in autumn reds and golds.
There is nothing I like more
Than an Indiana drive
On roads that are so pleasant
I’m in no rush to arrive.
In the woods that crowd the roads
There are turkeys, squirrels and deer
And snakes that slither through the weeds,
Engendering little fear.
There are walnut trees, tall pointed firs
And the storied sycamores
To shade the tangled underbrush
For the creatures of outdoors.
Overhead the honking of the geese
Flying by in v’s
And circling silently through the sky
Rides a hawk upon the breeze.
Every spring in Indiana
We seek mushrooms that arise—
Fleeting little delicacies
That spring rain and suns provide.
It’s all part of Indiana—
What a wondrous joy to be
At home in Indiana,
The only place for me.
Betty Killebrew
