When we look West from our home we see fields.
Fields of corn taller than an elephant’s eye.
It blocked our accustomed view of the ocean bound freighters
Through the long, hot days of summer the corn
Rustling and gossiping.
The harvesting began.
Like some prehistoric creature the harvester swept through row after row.
It arched it’s neck and spewed everything in its path into thundering trucks.
Row after row.
The harvester stopped. The trucks stopped. Repairs went into the second day.
Now it is a race against the weather. We all prayed and held our collective breaths.
Into the night without stopping until
I felt like shooting fireworks into the night sky.