the farmer in this field
always fields a thought
to which he can't yield
a chill he has fought
a kernel of fear
he keeps planted down deep
that something is here
and his soul it will reap
on this dark Hallow's Eve
he furrows his brow
but the thought won't leave
it grows larger somehow
he picks up his pace
sees the lights of his home
something brushes his face
he's no longer alone
his breathing grows hoarse
why did he tempt fate?
he stumbles of course
they're there, no debate
dirt in his eyes
but he gets to his feet
his courage a guise
that is in full retreat
then his willpower cracks
runs, no longer walks
for at his back -
the corn stalks
Chuck Audette
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-haunted-cornfield/
