Cornstalk Army

On my walk, today I spied
A large green army marching by--
Cornstalks standing six feet high,
Their tassels spiking a light blue sky.

Tucked below a forest of leaves,
Then saw the midget cavalry--
Horseheads  tied to every post,
Each a yellow mane to boast.

There an air-drop they await,
A secret shower that infiltrates--
That turns their  manes to red from gold,
And helps to make their horses bold.

As down the road I hurry fast,
Ranks of soldiers muster past--
They never stop to greet or cry
A message or a fond goodbye.

That army marching down the hill --
Camouflaged there with great skill--
Turns to amber from bright green
While still in tight formation seen.

first published in Time of Singing

first published in Time of Singing