I've been meaning to share this pix and many others. The fields of corn across from my property. Many stages have passed since I captured this state. Seemingly impermeable in my mind. I've been watching the ladies dance and for some time it had been a magnificant chorus line as they took to the winds in unison and stretched arms and legs exquistitely. Now, they've been windblown stark dry and seem to be exhausted as their limbs are splayed in many directions. Across the street they've been harvested. Stunted lengths of ankles and knees will be subject to winter's harshness. I can now see the neighbors farm across the street. It must be time for new friends. I miss the old ones though.
4 comments:
Cornfield poetic prose... Nice :)
Its funny how autumn can be so gray or colorful.. often even on the same day. You've captured a very gray sky here.
What a wonderful word picture Doris! x
I shall never look at cornstalks in the same way again. You have such a creative imagination, hope to see more posts like this one! I remember someone once saying that they could "hear" the corn growing, that's how quiet it was otherwise! Amazing!
I like where you live, I yearn for wide open spaces lately!
P.S. I'd like to see this rewritten as a poem!!
Though the days still ware on you your spirit for the written words has not be damaged at all. So good to hear you inner voice speaking to us all here... Darn I ask from more?
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