CORNVERSATIONS

The corn is green and tall and thick,
its field is long and wide.
There certainly must be some trick
to growing such a place to hide.

Deer likely lie within its shade
as they ruminate and think.
Perhaps they recall fall's loves made
how rutting took them to their brink.

And starlings in their weaving crowd
spend days there eating what they will,
fussing, talking confused and loud
not leaving till they've had their fill.

And as the sun sets the stalks stir
quietly they murmur to each other.
Like some old ones trying to concur
yet none agreeing with another.

What might the shuffled conversation mean ?
are they whispers of angels or demons?
Might that depend upon who gleans
during ,this, the growing season?