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IOWA CHILD
by Sarah Hall Maney
I am an Iowa Child
Part and product of the land on which I grew
Flat and open and straight, like
the farm roads that bordered the corn
Friendly and receptive, like the rich,
black soil that grows the corn
Simple, and plain, but productive,
like the fields of soy beans and hay
Yes, I am an Iowa child
There have been times when
I have kept it hidden
Pretending somewhere, something,
someone else
But today I stand with it
Drawing upon the strength of it-
Acknowledging the unique gifts
I share with it
Of course, an Iowa Child has not many
deep, intriguing forests within-
Not many clear, refreshing lakes to draw
upon
No lofty, grand mountain peaks to soar from
No yawning canyons to descend-
And I know my Iowa child must live
And come to terms with the part of me
That is controlled, precise, yearning
to be perfect-
Like the squared-off, ruler-straight rows
of hybrid seed corn.
Perhaps I will never be
as exciting, spontaneous,
as a tumbling Colorado mountain stream
As magnificent as a
crashing California ocean wave
As serene and stately as a Minnesota
pine tree
But no matter
I am who I am
An Iowa child
And that is enough