The corn is waist-high even up here in the upper midwest, O Doughty Readers, high up over our uppers, and we’re well aware of the eerie aerial view of the landscape, yes we are, young as we are. Today’s share from Beth McDermott lays it all out:
This poem originally appeared in SC 4.1 [ P | E ]. Subscribers get mad karma, and you can shop our issues thisaway. Read on!