West Desert Journal by Nathan Cowlishaw

Rattle in the wind
like bones
soft and brittle,
the corn isn’t ready.
The wind loves your fields
of dead awful silence.
What creeps in your shade?

Cornstalks are friends,
they laugh,
and they cling
to Mother Earth,
graciously.

I sing to you,
from a hammock
nearby.
Just listening to your
Leaves.

The corn babies are wrapped
up in their cocoons,
still developing.

Written by Nathan Cowlishaw