I love this state I call my home. Here is a poem I wrote 20+ years ago that still rings true for me.
My home is in Nebraska
where the long grass sways in the powerful wind.
The grass is a sea of greens and yellows,
drowning in the wind.
The grasses swim as the wind blows.
In summer storms the wind is full of strength,
as it dives into the green seas,
causing them to scatter across the prairies.
The grass sways as the wind blows.
On spring days it is gentle,
flapping the clothes in the line
and catching the hair of young lovers.
The grass dances as the wind blows.
It shakes and moves and no human could.
It would wear red, if in a hall,
for it is free, moving in which ever way the wind directs.
The grass is a wild mass of color.
It is free.
Never stopping for the breath that it steals
from the inhabitants with whom it shares the land.