A Voice Among The Corn
It is with sound that I recall
the voice among the corn,
The tiny cry masked by their size
spun around us in the dawn.
Our skin so broke by stroking blades
we tracked it to that place,
Where soon we'd find watched by their heads
his sunken, golden face.
Our woven hands together make
a cradle to his sound,
Whose voice was stole by yellow stalks
that pinned him to the ground.
By AR for JR
