The homely here of Indiana

The homely here of Indiana,

Beaten, drowned, buffeted,

Labeled by some as country

Best seen from above--

You know, as the crow flies.

And on days like these

Even from above, you'd see

Only clouds, and more clouds.

And yet--

Some blustery front will blow

Those clouds away, soon,

Then look out the windows, frequent fliers:

Ah, the lovely green checkerboards

Fringed by full wind-rows

Laid on the grid of county road

And interstate.

And down below, the beauty's

In the details, so look close:

The pear, the dogwood, the lilac

The tulip, iris, peony,

Green on loan from 

Some Irish aerie, maybe:

The Midwest flatness a sudden canvas,

Cubism and Impressionism thrown together,

Unexpected art in a plain Hoosier gallery.