Spring Scarecrow

Shifty eyes and raven stare, demented caws from twisted beak, a stealthy theif without a flock stalks my labor from flagrant perch. Worms nod from dusk damp holes but I suspect no worm looks quite as good as fresh sown seeds. A three toed bargain tucked in bed must look like fast food take out. I know he'll come when my back is turned and like the boogy man eat my dreams before they've sprouted! Spring ordained scarecrow am I with trustless eyes I wait until; the hills drink the sun and feathered spies slip beneath their wing when the wetland peepers peep songs and strings of crickets sweetly sing beneath a tilted moon.