The Life and Death of a Scarecrow
In a wind swept cornfield he stands,
a vigilant sentinel always on guard
for that pesky thief…the crow.
He was created by his maker for one
reason and one reason only…protect
the golden grains of harvest and the
pumpkins too, so they might grow.
He stands in the heat of the August
sun and in the cold of the Autumn
wind. He sways from side to side,
but he never bends.
He never eats, sleeps and
has no kin.
He stands straight as an arrow
and has never committed a sin.
He's never spoken a word, yet
everyone knows his purpose is
to scare away the crow and the
pesky black bird.
Now that the harvest is at it's end
and he's done his duty again.
The cold winter wind begins to
blow, and his old straw hat fills
up with new born snow.
His corn shuck arms have fallen off,
and his face is slowly fading from
the worn cotton feeds sack.
Once gone, he will never
The old scarecrow is dying,
as a sentinel he's
served his master well.
But like all scarecrows,
He's finally gone to hell!
Jackie R. kays ©05