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.
Connie Yost's Other Poems
Read this poem in other languages
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
Poet's Notes about The Poem
Comments about this poem (Corn On The Cob by Connie Yost )
- MY WORDS AND HER WORDS, MOHAMMAD SKATI
- Ode To B.J Azang, Tony Adah
- So Many Hummingbirds, Donal Mahoney
- SENRYU (5-7-5) 12, Aftab Alam
- Reaching For Desires, RoseAnn V. Shawiak
- A centennary - -, Murtaza Micky Yusuf
- YES! ! (to N.), John Thorkild Ellison
- Bee, Nassy Fesharaki
- Mulk Raj Anand As I Saw Him, Knew Him, Bijay Kant Dubey
- Morning Triku II, Steve Kittell