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Silken waves of corn, fertile land gives back

The sustenance the rest take for granted.

America’s heartland, this place keeps track

Of values lost in places where slanted

Minds obfuscate reality, for their

Own agenda. Out here where daily bread

Is at once a way of life and a prayer,

A hardscrabble existence isn’t dread,

But rather the way things are, ought to be.

They work the land, they consume what they make,

And never want for everything they see;

They share with others, rather give than take.

No hurry there, no good to move too fast,

Hardworking folk, a culture built to last.

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