To an Abandoned Cornfield

by Chris Kobylinsky

Where the fading trail fizzled out,
Trills of unseen molted crickets
Pulsated in an enclosed field
Covered in prickly cornstalk stubs
And untamed successional growth.
A dome-less silo stood leaning
Slight like an old man ruminating over a chessboard.
Its depressed shadow loomed over
Congruent, parallel furrow-scars;
Its edifice was marred with rust.
Out of its decapitated
Neck, vines had accreted longer
Than Samson’s hair. As I took a
Curious step closer, a pair
Of crows, like discovered lovers,
Sprang up and out from behind some
Disorderly, shaggy bramble.