We trade our secret sign coming out from morning prayers. Cows milked, chickens fed, and kitchen work done, we make our excuses and enter the corn, soon lost from watching eyes.

She's anxious today, needful. I give my love, tasting her, thrilling at her shaking joy. I rest my cheek in the thick forest of honey-brown curls that grace her sweet flower.

"What troubles you this day, my darling?"

"What will become of us?" she whispers. "When we are soon given and wed?"

"We will have each other still, when the stalks are high and the sun shines upon us."