Summer is winding down: tree leaves are tinged with orange and all but the most persistent weeds are dying. Purple thistle and goldenrod grace the roadsides.
At the Farmers Market, tables are filled with a colorful display of produce including fuzzy peaches, gleaming green peppers and orange-red tomatoes.
While riding my bicycle between cornfields I saw the sunlight glinting off a sea of green leaves. This poem came to me:
a-Maize
Tall cornstalk's gone to tassel
Green ear's topped with silk red
Flat hollows in the rows disclose
Where weary deer have bed.
8/19/2011
