Scarecrow Poem by Kevin Eaglesfield

Wild storms do not perturb him,
Nor snowflakes chill his grizzled brow.
In heat and rains he keeps his watch,
Help up out there somehow.

Just rags and straw and string and wood,
Yet strange enough he feels a friend.
A sentry for the hard-pressed farm from
Fragile shoot to harvest's end.

Intent and gnarled he stands alone,
Deterring thieves through countless days,
Then sagged and soft they take him down,
And reward him with a blaze.