Iowa

Amidst a sea of corn
and beans,
a small house sits
on a humble hill.
It's white washed pine
with seven layers
of shingles.
A screened in porch
in back
smells like cats.
In the gravel drive
rests a Buick
on blocks.
The air is thick
with hog and pollen.
Water drips from
an air conditioner,
frogs call each other
in a pond
and white clouds
sneak by
in Iowa.