"Sweet Feast"

In Fall, with loved ones, the sweet feast of corn.
A stern labor completed, with hands well worn.

Remembering back, priceless days shared.
A friend, a brother, and fresh country air.

We planted each seed, in Spring, row by row.
Hoping, and praying, each kernel would grow.

Returning each week, eyes wide with anticipation.
A miracle from God, "the plants' germination!"

We nurtured, and watered, and fed each line.
Then measured the height, always against time.

The plants ankle high, they continued to grow.
We thoughtfully protected them, with shovel and hoe.

The weeds they attacked, as they so often do.
The ugly vines surrounding, that we consistently slew.

From the knee, to the waist, then to shoulder high!
The corn it blossomed, stalks swayed in the sky!

Lessons learned forever, through weeks of toil.
Side by side, as we worked the farm's soil!

And so, we thanked God! For a blessed crop done well!
Rejoicing in the harvest, and friendship that swelled!

DEDICATED TO MY DEAREST OF FRIENDS MENLO GREER.

POET'S COMMENTS

Every poem has a story, and this one is no different. It is one of a labor of love and friendship spanned over 25 years. A brother now 83 years old, continues to donate countless hours of work on a small farm in northern Arizona, so that 200+ members in the city can share in the annual "Corn Party."

There is a little town that sits at the base of the White Mountains. It is known as Eagar, Arizona. Mormon Pioneers settled there in 1871. The Greer family was one of those names that were a part of that small community. My friend Menlo Greer with his sweet bride Barbara, owned a seven acre patch of land where sits a quaint and attractive modest farmhouse.

He was a bishop in Scottsdale Arizona who started a ward tradition, a dinner where all would gather to share love, and some sweet corn on the cob.

A four and a half to five hour trip every ten days was made to plow, plant, nurture, irrigate, weed, hoe, and harvest a crop of corn. The effort would start in the Spring and end in the Fall. In the second to third week of September the Corn Party would be celebrated, and all would attend.

As I helped worked that small farm over the last few years, I found it to be a great blessing in my life. The lessons to me were countless. The joy of witnessing the process of life, a seed being nurtured to one day bear fruit, understanding the law of the harvest, appreciating reaping and sowing, times and seasons, weather good and bad. The farm life that provides for so many, taught me of an unknown and unappreciated effort to feed each one of us. Much like the common everyday blessings we take for granted, the blessing of simple things like food and water could not be ignored on the farm.

I thought of all the people who volunteered to plow, plant, weed, hoe, and harvest to feed many. My friend Menlo, was there every minute, praying for every plant and every person who would be touched by this labor of love, whether on the farm or in the feast.

The greatest blessing of all was the memories of love shared, the eternal friendship and bond of brotherhood, the gospel conversations, the testimonies of a loving Savior, the prayers for the common good of others.

The sweet feast was not only to be found in the corn, but in the love and time we labored
together.