The Tale of Thanksgiving Kernels

The new moon shone slim
in the crisp October night
sky alive with stars 

Several small ears of corn
slumbered in a basket
on the Widow
Wyile’s back stoop
each curious grain
joined in dream
exploration
of its unique
and their united
possibilities for seeding
a new world
since the wider one
they’d grown into
evidently needed
loving assistance 

maize dreams

Soon after midnight
some raccoons crossed
the yard soon
to be joined by other
four-footed scamperers
drawn to the tisket
tasket basket 

The gift cobs are quickly
peeled nibbled gnawed
leading to a hobnob: 

Say, Samuel, is not
this corn unusual? 

Unusually fine, Antonia

Unusually free, put in Junior
            See how these kernels a
            maze rather than row 

It is so
many shapes and angles
            agreed Samuel 

It’s a wonder these cobs
aren’t locked up in house
           murmured Gruff 

Their grains are fancy
free      chortled Junior 

They grew up
from the ground
now they’re ground
up into meal
bless my fabulous teeth
           chirped Sonny Squirrel 

Ha, ground down by mine
           cheeped Mother Mouse 

I loved each kernel
completely
oh corn
           sang Antonia 

Yes, you’ve made me
feel replete
           tuned in Samuel 

Thanks be to a-maizing ears
gathered in a basket
           chimed in Junior 

Thanks be to the Earth and Sky
for helping them grow
           trilled squirrel 

Wonder-full corncobs
Wonder-full grains
Wonder-full-night-party
            of roving rodents
            feasting together
they agreed

Mmmm-hmmmm so fine
Mmmm-hmmmm divine
           they chorused
           for a time
before ambling about
their business
filled further
with potent love
and purpose 

And throughout this slip
of time the Widow Wyile
inside lay dreaming
of seeding harmonies
kindnesses and golden
swirls of joy
glimpsed them
coming into view
in the new world
dawning yonder
on the horizon