I Fell In Love With A Scarecrow Poem by Jenny Kalahar

I fell in love with a scarecrow when I was thirteen
drawing him over and over in art class
in the margins of my math book
dreaming of him on the bus
waiting until three o'clock
like waiting for heaven to touch my world
dropping my bookbag
running away from home
to the field three blocks away
past the cemetery my old lady friends stayed in after dark
past the little bridge where a stranger
sometimes left a quarter for me to find
past the hump in the road that the township never leveled
until I was there with him
Bernard Whitcomb, scarecrow
feeding seed to the crows and sparrows and cardinals
scattering it in great generous gobs in a semicircle
onto the dirt where grass should be at the front of his house
the birds not even noticing I was there
out of breath
my heart racing with love
for a withering man who told astounding stories
I had his permission
to someday write down into books
that he would never read
because he was going to join the old ladies soon
in that oak-shrouded cemetery
I later claimed
as a prayerground after school