Rows of Corn

Plump golden sweet corn
Impatient as a clown’s nervous smile
Rebelling against the bluebonnet sky

Marching in place in long fingered rows
Growing, in once fallow fields
by the babbling brook
wandering through the cool green valley

Aimless wildflowers dawdle through late May
Awaiting the corn, sun, and
the long anticipated summer
Then all dance as one dream

7 thoughts on “Rows of Corn

  1. Polona: Thank you. Corn is not something I write about often, but seemed like it deserved its own poem. Of course, if you are a farmer in Iowa, corn is poetic; even corny!

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