The Scarecrow

My limbs are stiff, I stand in comfort still
The rains are strong, against the wind no shield,
My perch is here, the sky and earth is near
Through day and night, I watch the larks and yield

In April’s lieu came flowers scattered wide,
From which derived your name
We picked them all, adorned the table side
With you I walked the fields

In time you’d rather read a book but still,
I taught you signs of old, of sun and star
I laughed when you predicted rain and chill,
And thunder clapped at dawn

I shouldered hoe and left, you crept in stead
You tired quick of peat, but played nearby
You wore my hat, the sun beat high ahead
I tilled the mounds, you followed planting seeds

The raucous cries of crows descend to claim
You scowled and charged and waved to no avail
We righted sticks, and filled the booted frame
To that my hat and overalls we gave

The winter’s storms brought screams and tears,
You locked yourself away
I felt the ache in my bones, the beat of black wings
This time silent and quiet, and swift

Winter left us all bare, my buried mound cold
Far better rest in our little project I found

From my perch at last I saw you stand
And move toward the field
Gathering the sweet white shroud that had there bloomed

Alone you tilled and turned the earth anew
As I stood guard, to work along with you

And now, the best of year has come
The families pass the gates                                                                                                                                                  And smaller feet run through the crisp leaf beds,
To our pumpkin harvest!