Seasoning

Shouldn’t we plant some corn?

It’s spring

Seeds and sun and rain

Just in time

 

Baked earth broken by stalks

Corn taller every day, ripening

Summer fruit

Standing still in sun sun sun

 

Dark wet day

Green organ of death

Harvests yellow flows of food

Let sweet darkness fall

 

Shouldn’t winter kill?

Me, I wouldn’t last long beneath the snow

But walking on it,

Under winter sun

I feel crunchy cover for a load of life

Waiting for a little more

Warmth

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