Sunday, November 7, 2010

Corn Harvest


The starchy sweet scent fills my nose

Bits of hulls flaking off,

Floating into the amber-violet light of sunset

Framed by the trees,

Gleaming off the galvanized bins.

The day once warm, has now turned cool

The crisp fall evening reaches into my bones

Thousands of tiny golden hearts tinged with pink

Pass over my tanned, dirty bare feet.

The death throes of great chartreuse grasshoppers

Gripping with their prickly feet

My tawny legs, the torn blue jeans

Struggling against the moving hearts

The gravity of the uplifted box

Seeing with their blank dead eyes

The end of the warm days

The culmination of the harvest.



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