idea: corn

The Golden Kernel Memory

The summer sun spills slow across the field,
Where emerald stalks rise, a silent, heavy yield.
Corn, standing tall in fields of dusty gold,
A story whispered that the earth has told.
It is more than grain, a pillar of the land,
A simple miracle held within God’s hand.

We watch the tassels sway in the humid air,
A symphony of green beyond compare.
The stalk grows strong, drinking deep the light,
Preparing patience for the coming night.
Each kernel tight, a promise deeply stored,
A sweetness waiting to be adored.

From furrowed earth and patient toil we draw
The bounty blessed by nature’s gentle law.
The hum of cicadas breaks the golden peace,
As summer memories find sweet release.
We walk the rows where shadows softly creep,
And gather treasure from the sleeping deep.

Then comes the harvest, a rustling, soft refrain,
When hands come forward to relieve the pain
Of waiting long beneath the blazing sun,
The work of seasons finally is done.
The heavy ears, stacked high and dry and bright,
A golden ocean bathed in evening light.

The husk gives way, revealing kernels whole,
A polished amber for the hungry soul.
From dried and shucked, a scent begins to rise,
Of smoky sweetness beneath open skies.
It is the taste of simple, honest grace,
Washed clean by rain upon a loving face.

We crush the cob with rhythm and with might,
Transforming harvest into pure delight.
The steam ascends, a comforting perfume,
Chasing away the shadows of the gloom.
Grits simmer slow, or cornmeal starts to bloom,
Dispelling hunger, banishing the room.

It sits upon the table, warm and deep,
A memory the heart is sworn to keep.
A staple comfort through the year’s long run,
From childhood kitchens until the setting sun.
It speaks of grandmothers and fields afar,
Of simple sustenance beneath a star.

The corn is woven in the fabric spun,
Of family stories, battles fought and won.
It anchors moments, rich and ever true,
The taste of home in everything we do.
A humble crop that feeds us every day,
The golden anchor to a brighter way.

So let the kernels gleam upon the shelf,
A perfect treasure for the loving self.
A reminder whispered, soft and low,
Of how the simple gifts help us to grow.
For in this corn, so sturdy and so sweet,
Lies all the comfort that our hearts can meet.