CORN ON THE COB

Mother Cob was quite maternal. To her each kernel was a grandchild yet to be born, You see, she was an ear of corn torn from the mother stalk to which she was born.

Now it was her turn to earn her place in vegetable table history. Just as she grew from a kernel or two to come alive and thrive as a full blown stalk she must shed her ears as she shed her tears. knowing that each parting cob had its own job to do: release in peace piece by piece the kernels that she'd nourished at her silken breast.

And if the rain and sun and weather did its best Ma Cob, her ear now sheared of kerneled treasure would bring her so much pleasure as she scanned the land and saw thousands of her dear little ears all grown up, sweet enough to eat.

Some would wind upon a plate, some in a stew, some would opt to pop or be ground, some would be used to fertilize the ground. For many there would not by any doubt they'd wind up in a boiling pot. And there'd be those chosen to be put in a can to feed the starving in lands far away where hungry children are too weak to play as their bodies rot away One single can of corn might save their day.