The Scarecrow's Pawn
As kings and queens spend idle nights
the growing corn keeps popping
old crows sit on the scarecrow’s limbs
to grunt and leave their droppings.
Long days slow turn to endless dark
as peons till the soil
knowing they, just like the crows,
barter sustenance for toil
yet do they dress for work each day
in the hand-me-downs of life
the scarecrow’s lonely, mournful, moan
at least they have a wife.
Fall’s fields low cut, the harvest won
the migrants presence fading
he suffers the impertinence
of kings and queens parading.
©3/22/2018
submitted to – Picture This – Poetry Contest
sponsor – Joseph May
Image 1
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