The golden hues of the day slowly shifted and faded as the night sky transformed itself to the color of a bruise. The inky purples and blues of twilight soon gave way to a velvet darkness studded with shimmering diamond like stars. A sultry breeze combed its fingers through the trees and grasses, stirring the night air with the earthy aromas of the evening. In the distance a frog chorus could be heard warming up their harmonies for the evening’s festivities. The moon shone forth from behind grey shrouded clouds and cast its luminous glow upon the darkened landscape below.
Moonbeams twinkled with the reflection of the stars on a
nearby pond and the melody of the evening began; the whispers of the grasses,
the groaning of the trees, frogs, crickets, even a lone coyote in the distance
all lent their voices. The symphony of night music swirled and twisted across
the air, and then movement. Gracefully and with fluid gestures unheard of in
something so upright, two cornstalks stepped from their row and glided towards
the pond. The twined their lower leaves together almost as if they were holding
hands and moved their no longer rooted extremities in a leisurely pace. After
all, the night was young and it was theirs.
They stepped to the water’s edge then broke apart and faced
each other. The taller of the stalks bent at the middle and extended a crackling
frond. The smaller stalk once again
twined its leaves with that of its mate and the dance began. Slow at first,
then picking up speed. Together the two stalks whirled and spun around the water’s
edge oblivious to any who might be watching. A pair of field mice stayed and
gazed upon them for a while but soon grew weary and left for their cozy burrow.
An owl on a nearby tree kept time and added his voice to the night chorus.
Faster and faster the stalks spun, their excess leaves fanning out behind them
like tails and veils. The moon lent the pair its own spotlight and soon their
exuberant dance could no longer be contained at the edges of the pond and so the
waltzing pair spun out into the night. Through fields and hills they moved, across
empty country roads and down dusty lanes. Fences proved no hindrance to the
pair as the taller stalk swept its partner in a high sweeping ark up and over
and then followed behind.
As the evening wore on the music of the night began to fade and the dancers
seemed to tire. Their spins turned to sways and they pulled closer to each
other so that they no longer resembled two stalks but one. Leaves twined and settled
and the rustling of them became the only music the two could hear. They bent
and moved with the night breeze as it pushed them along content to go wherever
it lead.
Eventually the weary dancers reached the outskirts of a town
and moved down the sleepy streets until they came to a house set back from the
road. With a newfound burst of energy they kicked up their roots and promenaded
past drowsy cows and startled horses. The exuberant pair disturbed a barn cat that
was on the prowl, but it bore them no ill will as cats understand what it is to
chase the moonlight.
With a final flourish the tall stalk gave one final turn
then bent its partner low to the dusty ground. They stayed framed in moonlight
for a heartbeat then righted themselves and shook out their leaves. Up above the
moon yawned and pulled grey clouds around itself as it sank towards the
horizon. Dawn could be seen lifting its head over the distant hills and as the
sky began to lighten the taller stalk once again bowed at the waist and extended
its leaves to its partner. The two joined stems and walked up the porch steps
in a stately manner as if they owned the old house. At the top of the stairs
they slowly turned and looked out over the path they had come. Satisfied and
weary they moved in tandem to the corner of the porch and leaned their drooping
forms against the railing. A pair of pumpkins nestled up close to their roots
like slippers and dancers became still in the mornings light.
As the day began to break and signs of life stirred in the old
farmhouse, no one noticed the two corn stalks on the porch. It seemed as if
they had always been there like the walls of the house and grandmas old rocker.
Their beauty was appreciated if anyone chanced to look but no further thought
was given. The stately stalks saw the children off to school and back again.
They were present for the father’s birthday and the passing of the old family
dog. They were festooned with cobwebs for Halloween and as they began to brown
and wither they reached Thanksgiving before they bid the family adieu.
Once again the night music and restless breezes
called to them and they moved from off of the porch to the dirt road below.
Their forms were not as limber and their steps not as light, but they spun in a
steady, comfortable rhythm as they danced once again through the fields and into
a velvet and diamond studded night. For even enchanted cornstalks must one day reach
their end, but somewhere, on another autumnal night new dancers are awakening
and unfurling their leaves.
