Scarecrow Poem by Tapera Makadho

I will not be gullible to your antics;
Left only are eyes bereft of a wink,
Hollow sockets that have never blinked,
Staring into a sun that scorns you.

I will not be hoodwinked by your tricks,
Unless you can move an inch;
You are rooted to your post in shame,
A prisoner of the very ground you guard.

We all know you are nothing within;
Just a dummy propped on a sunny day,
Stuffed with straw and empty promises,
A scarecrow with no shadow of its own.

Time has disfigured your countenance,
Bleached your rags and bent your frame;
The crows have long since lost their fear
And perch upon your shoulders without shame.

You will not scare me, scarecrow,
Unless you grow the horns to gore;
In those hollow, oversized gabardines
Only the wind can make you sway;
And even the wind grows tired of you.

Just as the swan sings before it dies,
So you perform before your demise;
A last, desperate flailing of straw arms
Against a sky that does not care.

You cannot scare me, scarecrow;
I sting my truth like a gadfly,
Circling you in the open field
Until you crumble into dust
And the crows inherit your post.