Corn

Sweet spraying kernels

Golden bumps on a hard core

Like a kind person with a stout heart

Bite it and it squirts

Eat like a baby again

Face smashed against wet juiciness

American fruit

Food of our fields

Produce of our labor

Need water and nourishment

There is nothing lovelier

Than rows and rows of grassy-like green

This poem is about: 
My country

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