I look out the cloudy glass.
An intruder on nature, but also a Part of the scenery.

Peering out as the repetitive
Golden fields of wheat pass
And patches of soybeans
Come up to meet
The pale, endless sky, aglow with
The evening sun shining into my
Awestruck eyes, right through
The fingerprinted car window.

The cracked tar stretches endlessly
Behind me and before me,
A road well traveled by
Truckers with backward caps and Budweiser,
By big families in small minivans,
And by that girl next door who is driving
Just to drive.
Because the path to an unknown destination is kinder than people.
Marked with green road signs, barns, silos,
And an abundance of corn, the road is the only place she can call
Home.

Each red barn with chipped paint
And a silo to match
Set back in the nook of green grass and miles of growth
Tells its on story,
Holds so many memories between the rotting floorboards.

As I look out once more
Through fingerprinted glass to the beauty surrounding me,
I feel like I belong.

Because this- the clouds settling down
And the sunlight leaping through blue
And glinting off corn tassels and the tops of freshly painted silos-
This never ending glory...
This is Home.