Scarecrow

Lush green fields.
A summers yield.

Scarecrow bristles.
In the dying wind.

Not a care in the world.
Corn heart unfurled.

Presides over everything.

Job now done.
With the setting of the sun.

Loosens his drawstrings.

Tomorrow another day.
For the man made from hay.

A life on a pole to swing.

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