It’s funny the memories I thought carefully tucked away
came to life for a few brief moments on this quiet rainy day
A faint glimmer of red and gold
Flashing colors hurrying to unfold
Ears of corn, some yellow, some red
It’s Indian corn, my grandad’s voice said
I remember thinking he was being funny
As He looked My way, a smile appeared as
sweet as honey
I asked, how did you grow these to make them red
I remember asking why are they not Golden instead
Each seed comes from a unique flower
On each cob are separate varieties displaying power
All the flowers are the same color, usually yellows
sometimes white, and less often, red fellows
One type alone can have four colors of flowers on just one cob
five colors of seeds on one ear, including purple no small job
There is this thing called botany, you see
When you grow up, you will learn it the same as me
A beautiful memory of a sunny day in Grandads
Garden shed
A botanical memory grandad put inside this small
girl’s head