Poetry by Nancy Kay Peterson
Late August hint of fall hides in
the pulsing breeze, scented dusty green.
Each time the wind pauses, the sun asserts
its waning summer strength, toasting
the back of my flannel shirt.
We two sisters stand on the foot bridge that
spans the dry creek between our parents’ house
and garden, silently shucking corn.
Soft silk threads tear away easily
from ears stunted by drought.
Cob tips have broken through
their green shells. End kernels
not gnawed away are mahogany colored.
We snap off spoiled ends,
toss them over the bridge rails.
Remaining bright yellow half-cobs
fill bags to be carried inside
and cooked within the hour.
My hands are sticky with milk,
the sweet smell of new corn.
I could do this forever.
Nancy Kay Peterson’s poetry is in The Bluebird Word, Dash Literary Journal, Earth’s Daughters, Last Stanza, RavensPerch, Spank the Carp, Steam Ticket, and Tipton Poetry Journal. She co-published Main Channel Voices: A Dam Fine Literary Magazine (2004-2009). She authored two chapbooks, Belated Remembrance (2010) and Selling the Family (2021). See www.nancykaypeterson.com.
