Tiny wrinkled thing
Size of a ladybug
Dry and dead as stone
It rested in my palm
I buried it beneath
The black leaf loam
From the grave it rose;
Green phoenix stretching
Lifting striated wings
Worshiping the sun
In months, taller than I
It rustled against the sky
Silver silk flowing
Over robust ears
Beneath rough sleeves
Cobs bulged with life
Rebirth from destruction
Born again from death
Multiplied like stars
Reformed and alive
Such is a spirit reborn
Like a kernel of corn
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