Rain pelting down on a tin roof
Like popcorn bursting.
Silos large and small tubs full.
More than enough for
A circus and a clown.
Seen through the panes
The corn flows fat
In clarified butter.
I am smelling the pop
In the crop
In the fields
That surround.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem