I am from the land of the hand,
where you can map out exactly where you are
any time needed.

I am from the place where Spatz bread is royalty,
and a drink has so many names
we only know it as pop.

I am from the farms of sugar beets and fields never ending,
with rolling hills of corn
always in stock.

I am from being surrounded by water
all around the hand,
with a beach always present
no matter where you went.

I am from the gardens of flowers
always flowing in the wind,
with bright colors and bees that just might sting.

I am from the land of white
that freezes every year.
With snow suits and boots,
don't forget your mittens.

I am from the bright green and yellow machines,
that roll around town,
from field to field
at every harvest.

I am from the sled races and ice skates
that make everyone fast,
down the same hill each winter
that never disappears.

I am from the old stinky river,
ruined years ago,
they all say it's better,
but really do we know?

I am from the long names that nobody knows
and churches that once above rose.
Everyone is polish
and everyone loves pirogue.