Angel Sammy came up with another fun photo for his Poetry Corner this week. Although we did not grow up on a farm ~ in rural northern Indiana, there were many surrounding us, and a corn field filled the land across the road (though never sure which farmer owned it!). So that field was a fun place for summer games of hide-and-seek, with parental warnings not to "borrow" any of his corn!
The photo also brought back a few memories from many years later ~ as shown in the photo below our poem: as "grandparents" then, living in Florida, two of our young grands at the time play in their Poppy's yard wagon. Thankful for the memories!
CORN
Yellow Corn, White Corn, Peaches & Cream.
Boiled, buttered, roasted or salted.
Are these summer memories? Or perhaps only a dream.
A ride in Grandpy's wagon, through fields grown so high,
his tractor spewing dirt clouds, this hot day in July.
We helped Grandpy pick it, shucked it too.
Threading it's silk throughout our hair.
Back in the farmhouse watching Grammy
at her stove from a kitchen table chair.
She'd mash up taters, once stored in the cellar below.
Shell peas and beans, fresh from her garden where they did grow.
Grandpy brought in ham from his smokehouse,
"it's mouth meltin' good", so he said,
"cause last spring old-mr-piggy said good-bye
to become our suppers instead!"
A ride in Grandpy's wagon, through fields grown so high.
Supper at Grammy's table, serving up love in endless supply.
