Corn tales

Fertile
these wide lands
lay waiting.        

Wind and water
made the corn be
by sun and moon.

The corn now pricks up
its ears as if
somehow words are whispered
that tell a tale.

If then those tales have been gathered,
rootstocks remain to be gleaned
by a next generation,
the next harvest

Is one
never done
listening here?

Silently the lands
wait for
watering,
farming
of their fields