Corn Song

The Corn is proud. No matter where it is, it will try to be the king. And, if on good soil, it will succeed and demand many gifts of nutrients from the Earth. The Earth, as is her wont, gives her all with no thought of recompense, forever until her end. The Sun burns through the thirsty clouds. He is the tyrant that rules all life, but without his daughter, Water, life as we know it would not be. The living green things would not shoot forth from the soil, the flowers would not beckon the bees, and all animal life would have nothing to feed on.

So the Elements combine and cycle to provide nourishment for life. Why this is so I do not know. But there it is.

So, as Kung Fu Farmer, my job is simple. I observe, I act. I plant, I weed. I feed, I harvest. There is always the action, Wham! followed by the inaction, Zzzzz. Actually, if all I did was nap, life would continue all around me, without my help. But I desire certain things, like corn and pickles. So I decided, years ago, to make a pact with the Elements. We would work together instead of as enemies. And so far, the peace has been kept.

So I plant the corn seed. Is this a gift to them, or to me? Am I being selfish or selfless? If I don’t exactly know, I must be on the right track. When I plant the corn, weed it, water, pick it, eat it, compost it, it all actually stays in the cycle. In a way, the corn is feeding itself.

Well, now, as I stand amongst the corn and listen to them breathe, I hear their leaves play a song, rubbing against each other like cricket legs in the dark. But this is a sunny song, one of great muster and joy. I can smell the sweet pollen as it drifts down and out from the tassel. It is a humid morning, and the sweat is already beading at my brow.

There is a fog out amongst the clumps of goldenrod and birch. It is a blanket over the landscape.

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