Treasure Island

Connie Yost

(5/27/38 / Reed City, Michigan)

Corn On The Cob


From swampland and woods weary creatures arrive,
Their weakening strength is their will to survive.
Of what are they guilty, what possible sin?
Last summer's strong youngsters now struggle to win.
Through belly-deep snow I have watched them come in,
Tired, degraded, malnourished, and thin.

Younger and older, their guide is their nose,
Now reaching the place where their cup overflows,
White tails are flipping, their gratitude shows.
Releasing from hunger, her bucks and her does,
Mother Nature needs help, I have taken the job,
With bushels of sugar beets and corn on the cob.

Submitted: Friday, June 14, 2013
Edited: Tuesday, July 30, 2013
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Poet's Notes about The Poem

Sometimes Mother Nature needs a helping hand.

Comments about this poem (Corn On The Cob by Connie Yost )

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  • Khairul Ahsan (9/8/2013 10:17:00 AM)

    Oh, what a beautiful and sweet poem it is! Very much soothing to read, .10/10!
    Your note 'Sometimes Mother Nature needs a helping hand' is true. Thanks for extending that hand to the endangered creatures.
    A very well written poem. (Report) Reply

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