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.
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Poet's Notes about The Poem
Comments about this poem (Corn On The Cob by Connie Yost )
- The Book That Stands Alone, Katherine Nordhaus
- ~ Why ~, Aparna Chatterjee
- Nigeria Arise and Save thyself, Henry Isiekwe
- Not a minute or a day too late or soon, Mark Heathcote
- Little makes a lot, DEEPAK KUMAR PATTANAYAK
- In For A Penny, In For A Buck, Noah Body
- Shriveled Up Inside A Rose, Is It Poetry
- Meditation, Robert Eckstein
- হে নারী, Md. Ziaul Haque
- অনিন্দ্য সৌন্দর্য তোমার, Md. Ziaul Haque
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