Harvest

small cyclone
of corn husks
in my car's path
blown off the
shaven field

remnants
of the gathered crop
husks of treasures
the meat already gathered

wind whips them
twirling
as if a spirit
passes by

mountains of corn
trucks keep coming
a banner year
transparent skins of kernels
dusting my windshield

I remember
still bear the scars
of barren years
days of wanting

hungry of soul
heart frozen
longing

and here I am
watching the corn mountains
rise

my spirit is light
as the husks
swirling in dance
across my path

I am full
I am enough

the harvest
is plenty.