Entropy of Harvest

 

Today I went to my brother's farm to harvest, process and freeze corn, a process that took me from early morning until late afternoon.  Amazing what you think up when you are handling upwards of 200 ears of corn. 

Entropy. Of harvest

The tall stalks and broad, deep green leaves
 were wet with last night's rain
 as I made my way,
 rustling down
 the dim fecund aisle
Plants taller than my head
 thrusting out fat, full
 ripe ears
 for the picking

My bag grew heavy as I ripped
 full-eared corn from stalk,
Then made my way to the cart,
Bounty tumbling pale green leaves,
 tipped with silk turning from blond
 to russet, ripe.

 Later, I  reached for ear after ear
Pulling husk from cob
Building neat stacks of butter yellow ears,
 with even, sweet kernels
And carelessly discarding husks,
In a haphazard pile
Untidy as the boudoir
Of some beauty who will only
 wear all of the shades of summer green,
And can not decide
without tumbling the contents of her closet
 on floor and bed,

Later still,
I drop ears in boiling water.
 where they darken a little
 to the yellow of spring daffodils
And soften a little,
 ready for the severing knife
 cutting cob from kernel

Tens of  thousands of kernels
in neat bags for winter eating,
Thousands of husks
for the goats
 Hundreds of empty cobs
 Scattered for the chickens
All
returning to the earth
one day.