At 4:13 a.m. in Southern Illinois
Under the soft luminescence of full moon,
Amidst the chirping of crickets and hoarse croaking of katydids,
As Venus chases Jupiter on the eastern horizon
And the breeze meanders slowly across my shoulders,
Wafting the scent of cornstalks past my nostrils at 73 degrees,
The first of the cocks begins to crow,
Announcing the dawn of another year
To enjoy this beautiful land that we claimed
From the hands of the Potawatomi,
Who surely would never miss it
As much as I would now.
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