Home In The Heartlands

A poem of home, family and giving thanks

Home In The Heartlands     When the wheat fields have been gleaned And the harvest set aside It is time to thank the father For the bounty he provides When we set our family table We will lay one missing plate For him, the weary traveller Should he wander through our gate We will celebrate the harvest All the work that has been done Honest toil, mind numbing labor Underneath the broiling sun In the heartlands of America Where life is sweet and free Where we worship God on Sunday With our children round our knees Ahh, the farmlands of America It's what makes our country great When that golden wheat is waving Where storms can decide our fate Where corn tassels just keep dancing With every tiny evening breeze And the beauty of a sunset Can bring you to your knees Where the blacktop calls you forward But the dirt road pulls you back Where every home's a castle Be it mansion be it shack Where the river's right for fishing Small kids still play in the sun Where I watch from a porch swing When each golden evening comes Breathing in the smell of lilacs Tall snapdragons and the rose I wish I'd spent my life there Where man's happiness, it shows So when God calls me homeward Cause that supper time has come I hope heaven's like the heartlands So I'll know that I've come back home