Here lately, I
can't drive past a dying field of corn without thinking they look like
zombies.
Zombie Corn
All that's left
now
is the army of
zombie corn,
limbs in awkward and stiff
positions,
coloring not quite right.
The slightest wind causes
some to lean forward
and some to tilt back.
The standing dead are
waiting to be gathered,
waiting for the reaper
with his scythe,
ready for
the fall.
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