I swirl without water, I dance without feet. I blindingly swallow the desert heat. I bury the tracks of the brave and the bold, And turn the bright daylight to gritty gold.

I’m a place that’s low, with two hills tall, The rain likes to visit, but I don’t mind at all. Rivers might run through me, birds fly over my head What am I, where the land dips down instead?

Along this, you can do this. Feet settle and rest. A line never straight, North and South, East and West.

Fields of green and barns of red, It’s where your milk and meat are bred. Tractors roll and crops grow tall, What’s the place that has them all?

I'm a place where you view through the lens of the past. History lovers tend to have a blast. Where art lovers can nurture their inner critic, As they stand before each old painting and relic.