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Corn Planting Time
   for Mom
by Patrick T. Randolph

Itís corn planting time in northern Wisconsin.
Dad and I have waited for the perfect Spring sprinkle;
Not a strong rain that washes soil and insects away
In the night, but a long, long soaking rain,
One that will prepare the soil for our fingers while they push
The tiny seeds of corn with ease into the sweet black
Musty smelling earth,

A long loquacious soft sprinkle that will call earthworms
Out to play with our odd human worm-like fingers that peck
In and out of the soil like a neurotic bird not sure of
What he is looking for or what he will find.

The rain continues all day even after we have broken
For a short lunch and returned to the green festival of planting corn.

A robin watches from a nearby fence post
With wanderlust eyes bathing in the Spring sprinkle.
Mom is coming down the driveway
With a thermos of hot coffee in one hand
And a wave in the other.

From his book: Fatherís Philosophy


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