KS:  Mike Finley

Spring flows all around us or ought to 

each field of corn is taut 

with arrows and bows 

Our hands can't contain 

the gifts we are given

We subsisted on shucks

and gathered in sheaves

Blind as corn and armed

to the eyes

Stethoscopes hang from every ear

Everyone craves

the combination

In all this flatness we

keep needing to jump