Little Boy Shucking Corn
by Kenneth Hada


A little boy shucking corn
by the burn pile out back of a broken house
stands knee-deep in silken husks.
Stalks fly in the evening breeze
as he cleans yellow ears as long as his arm.
His spotted puppy sits atop his metronomic tail
fixated on the silent harvest.

A dad glances through the kitchen glass
to check on the progress of his boy.
August crickets sound and evening doves coo.
A meadowlark sits on a fence post.
Somewhere in the approaching darkness,
a quail calls to her covey in an adjoining field.

Unaware of the falling sky about them,
the boy concentrates on the tassels
making ready the evening meal.
The dad knows their days are passing,
this place will be abandoned
and this evening will only be a memory.

He knows that strand by strand
his boy is becoming a man
but tonight he is just thankful for the corn.






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