Scarecrow Remembers


Scarecrow Remembers

I recall nothing before my eyes captured
the horizon and the looped whorl of night’s
afterglow, the first crow-plumes
crossing from left to right, awakened to
everything but my history and what
preceded the morning. By midday
I had mastered the secret language of
corvids and learned to interpret the wind’s
folly. When the sun eased below the hills,
I divined the angle of declination and tilted
my head to true north, thinking this is my
calling, to point the way.
But how few
of us bottle our life’s cause to sip as
needed. Later my dark friends whispered
the truth, and we laughed among the
rustling stalks as I pointed the way
not to the Alhambra or even Wichita,
but to the choicest kernels. Placed here
for one purpose, another claimed me.
I am the future without past, the present
decaying, tomorrow’s joke, impermanent
and shadowed. I am anomaly, risen.

* * *

“Scarecrow Remembers” was first published at The High Window in December 2016.

25 thoughts on “Scarecrow Remembers

  1. Good one! Each reading stirs something new – this morning I’m struck by “wind’s folly” – thinking trickster Wind and Scarecrow are an odd couple (at best) – thinking of my own unexpected responses to Wind on certain occasions.

    Liked by 1 person

  2. One of my favorites. I have been thinking a lot about memory, both my own and that of those I know whose memories have been turned inside out by the body’s breakdown. Scarecrow gives us insight into that too I think, simply by being. (K)

    Liked by 1 person

  3. “But how few of us bottle our life’s cause to sip as needed.” Preciousness we just can’t seem to hold on to. This was beautiful! Wichita as in Kansas? I wonder if you were in my neck of the woods? 🙂

    Liked by 1 person

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