Where I Come From

I come from cornfields and hazy nights.
I come from wide-open spaces and close-knit people.
I come from chasing lightning bugs and making mud pies.
I come from a long line of farmers and hunters.
I come from camping and bonfires.
I come from cold winters and snow forts.
I come from swimming the summer days away and bike rides.
I come from stargazing in the back of a pickup truck and country drives.
I come from a tiny town and wouldn’t change a thing.
I come from Fowler, in the flyover state.