Scarecrow

I am a scarecrow.
I watch the clouds
glide across the sky
to and fro
as the winds blow.

Rooks and crows
slide across the sky;
they fear me-
why?
being but paille and chapperal.

My head a bag of straw
Oh, the crows
cry cawcaw,
that's the only
song they seem to know.

My hat is a sunflower.
Seeds of the standing weeds
take their rest
in its nest
and sprout and root and grow.

poem by Morgan Michaels
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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