If blue bonnets I happen to see

or armadillos, lizards in trees

and country music moves the knees

I know in Texas I must be.

 

And now upon a triangular tower

surrounded by art for the eyes to devour

and mourning our lady – blackened, dour

I’m in France’s Paris flower.

 

Then, I spy an old cracked bell

the place of independence, as well

I’d in Philly’s brotherly love dwell.

 

North a bit, and there’s a rock

it’s smaller now with time’s tick tock

the seafood’s great, and Fenway’s grand

when e’er I visit Boston’s land.

 

Out west, looking down afar

the rivers cut rock walls under stars

below the donkeys carefully ride

thru Colorado’s Canyon and survive.

 

South now, and the Cajuns speak,

“who dat?” is what the sports fans tweet

beignets and frog legs are cuisine

and brightly-shining Mardi Gras beads

New Orleans is this flashy scene.

 

East again, and all I see

are vegetables, corn, carrots, peas

one gambler’s famous city be

Surely I’m home, in New Jersey.

 

Where e’er I go, the land tells me

any place I happen to be

from Florida below to Paris above

not lost, but found in the lands I love.

 

-Sandra Johnson, 6/22/19