Fields of corn and dust as the combine harvester chops down the whole plant, splices the kernel off the ear and spits out the cob leaving the golden harvest. The modern day thrashing has made the work fast with tons of corn in a day. Down the road the ethanol plant will purchase truck loads with jobs for the locals and help to the rural economy.
If the corn is not sold it will be stored in the silos and cribs or fed to pigs who are raised in confinements. Thousands of pigs confined to small pens where their pig shit falls into a pit to be used as fertilizer. Fallow are the fields that beckon the first frost. Fallow are the fields that glow with the first snow.
Winter hardened ground
Frozen against the sharp plow
After harvest time
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dVerse prompt on haibun Monday and the first frost
wordshophop 
we have come so far from harvests where I live so mostly we don’t see it…
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Harvest time on the farm … all so familiar to me, like sliding into an old shoe. Thanks for the jog to my memories. Great write!
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I really like the last 2 sentences before the haiku!
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A fertile snapshot of the midwest at this time of year, where dormancy sneaks in and months of hard labor ease off.
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Reminds me of farming in Indiana. I liked the idea in the haiku about the ground being frozen against the sharp plow.
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a clever haibun about the food process – how we waste, save, and torture.
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We don’t have hog confinements ourselves but pigs seem content as long as they’re fed and healthy. There are guidelines for how many hogs per square foot pen space and buildings are climate-controlled 🙂
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