Music of the Plains
Left tall and dry, lies the pillared maize forsaken.
Barren fields of corn, stand row by row.
When yellow ears have long been gathered,
a dusty crop has paid it's garnered due.
The dry stalks bend and dangle stiff remains,
and autumn winds return to whip batons and play.
The quiet fields tune harps and violins,
making harmony from husks, with swaying stalk refrains.
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