Plump golden sweet corn
Impatient as a clown’s nervous smile
Rebelling against the bluebonnet sky
Marching in place in long fingered rows
Growing, in once fallow fields
by the babbling brook
wandering through the cool green valley
Aimless wildflowers dawdle through late May
Awaiting the corn, sun, and
the long anticipated summer
Then all dance as one dream
Poetic Alchemist 
Polona: Thank you. Corn is not something I write about often, but seemed like it deserved its own poem. Of course, if you are a farmer in Iowa, corn is poetic; even corny!
Aurora: Thanks. Good way to describe it.
beautiful imagery here…
Sensory rich, Don!
Another good one, and I don’t think you’ll ever run out of things to make poems out of…
Borut: Thanks. I guess I’m running out of things to write poems about. LOL.
You sure know how to turn cornfields into poetry! 🙂