I was in a terrible mood when
I arrived home from the market,
Dark clouds filled the midday sky.
As I glumly filled the pot for pasta,
A breeze blew in the window with
The moist green smell of cornsilk,
As the rain began falling softly.
Suddenly, my mood lifted.
Stripping corn for dinner
With my sisters for my Mom.
That’s all we would have had
Those August nights
When it was first ripe,
Fat, sweet and slathered
With soft yellow butter.