Who scattered the seeds that grew into corn?
‘I,’ said the farmer, ‘one cold autumn morn.’
    ‘I watered the seeds,’ said a big black rain cloud,
    Whilst the winter wind howled with a voice that was loud.

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The wheat grows in clusters at the top of the stem,
It's ‘ears,’ that they're called.  There are many of them.
    ‘Who milled the corn which was made into bread?’
     ‘It was milled at our mill,’ the mill owner said.

When the corn became flour, where next did it go?
‘To me,’ said the baker - ‘for certain I know.
       I'm expert at making good cakes and fresh bread
       And it's my tasty cooking that keeps you well fed.’

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When you next buy a cake or a good loaf of bread  -
Or perhaps you'll buy biscuits or pastry instead -
      Remember the seeds that were grown into corn;
      Planted last autumn on that crispy cold morn.

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Copyright on all my poems

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