Scarecrow

Pickled and feathered to stand in the weather and gargle the sea and the sun Laughing and smiling to night stars beguiling like one of those days when the world was still young. Sand-filled and leathered with handfuls of heather to sow on the seeds of the field Laquered and flowered with sunny sun showers to reaping they bring in the yield Birds of a feather and inclement weather all bend to the wishes of sound Standing and waiting with nature abating the last of the last of the seedlings to ground Faded and jaded but not underrated I watch all the seeds that you sow Silently scaring becomes rather wearing to perch on my shoulders, the crow.