Sounds, like my feet stepping on the leafs, echo in

orange, yellow, red.

Smells, like the unique pine tree scent, travel in

calm, ceremonial, clean.

That’s what Spain is made of.

Gardens speak in lilys, orchids and tulips—

cultivated in Wisconsin’s spring,

and planned in the tundra’s blizzards.

That’s what Wisconsin is made of.

The radiant bright sun sparkles.

Deers, wild boars, foxes

walk through this mysterious but magical place.

The wind, the breeze, make my hair shiver.

That’s what Spain is made of.

Through pumpkin patches and corn mazes,

children's feet trip and scream paths into squiggles,

carving savory scents into memories.
That’s what Wisconsin is made of.

Eagles, pigeons, sparrows

sing their unreadable melodies.

Flies, wasps, bees,

buzz while I saunter.

That’s what Spain is made of.

                                   In Wisconsin, like in Spain, nature laughs—

                                   so simple pure and divine.

                                   But at night, it whines,

                                   calling, bawling for help.

                                   That’s what the world is made of.