Downhill Runpicked
Sloppy sweet sugar corn ears
Dripping buttery syrupy tears
Too hot to hold without end pins
The memories linger for years
Why did the taste of stolen corn
Always seem better at night
After filling the finger spaces of
Both hands with the black tassels
Of at least three ears each
Two dozen ears at a dead run
One can but wonder why
They use picking machines
Corn racing could well be an Olympic sport
Or at least an annual holiday event
What other harvest offers such fun
Copyright © Donald Meikle | Year Posted 2005
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