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