The full moon rises over the cornfield.
She marks the passage of time
From the sprouting of tiny seeds
To way more than knee high
By the fourth of July.
Tassels and ears suddenly appear as
Each stalk soars towards the sky.
The lush rich green disappears, and
The leaves begin to rustle like paper.
As the latest full moon makes
Her ascent over the golden field,
It will be time for the fall harvest.
This has been submitted to One Shot Wednesday. Visit their site at One Stop Poetry for many more excellent poems.