I miss the sigh of the corn a lot,
living over here in Gutenberg Land-
that soft sound when the summer is really far along,
the sky is soft blue,
the air is hot hot hot,
and, as you walk through the seven-foot stalks in the field,
there is just a tiny moment of wind,
a soft little gust
that makes the corn sigh.
A gentle rustling sound of the nearly dried leaves
home, home, home…
There isn’t much corn here in Gutenberg Land.
The small amount that does grows here is
the small white-kernelled kind used for cow fodder.
The small amount being eaten,
on the cob only-
is blackened on a barbecue grill next to pork steaks,
a popular form of goat’s cheese that doesn’t melt when grilled.
Some time ago, though, I was in a concert out at Kloster Eberbach,
a gorgeous old Cistercian cloister
used in the filming of The Name of The Rose.
Arriving, you park your modern transport by the gate,
Through an ancient solid wooden archway,
monstrous door protecting the inner sanctum of the religious buildings
from the wild animals
and, at the time it was built,
even wilder humans,
roaming the region.
And you walk.
Into the dark woods,
through a gorgeous mountain-surrounded meadow,
full of wild flowers,
then across a small plank bridge
over a bubbling rivulet of a stream,
peeping back at the deer,
and in this season, foxes,
peeping at you.
Then across a high ridge,
where you can look down on the beautiful old buildings,
the only sound the small aerator in the carp and trout ponds,
some soon to be dinner when the crowds arrive for the evening’s baroque concert.
And you take a sip from your water bottle,
To the cloister’s day breaking
And the deer,
making their way down to the little brook,
and the sighing of the wind
in the cloister’s formal gardens.
if you sit absolutely still,
and listen carefully,
and think the kind of thoughts you should always think
when given the great gift of a day like this,
in a place like this,
you will finally hear
the sigh of the corn.
copyright dunnasead.co 2017