145 – Guardian Of The Crops

Poem number 145
Guardian Of The Crops
I wish I was a scarecrow
Standing in the sun
Guarding corn from evil crows
Until the day was done.
I’d stand there looking fearsome
With a hat upon my head
The crows would see my silhouette
And fly next door instead.
A peaceful life, that scarecrow lark
With not a lot to do
But satisfying none the less
Fulfilling, useful too.
Yes a scarecrow’s life it is for me
A life of summer sun
Watching over fields of corn
Until the harvest’s done.


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