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.
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