Scarecrow Dreams
If by night I move without aid,
what then? Precious flesh, precious
bone, never mine to lose – the difference
between nothingness and no thing. A
pity that my friends fly at the merest
movement, but when the air’s breath
stills, they sing and rattle among the
grain, scribing their days in song
and footprints, seeking the available
on the ground. And what scrolls lower
than the sound of sunflowers turning?
The laughing daughter runs around
my lattice spine, scattering joy like so
many seeds, and when my hollow
fingers clench, the earth quivers, or
so it seems. Then midnight returns
and I disengage and stalk about,
scaring rodents and their predators,
hooting in harmony with the owls
reveling in the night air, remembering
the holy shirt, a yellow glove, corn
silk’s gleam at noon and the warmth
of your fingers against my burlap skin.
I do not breathe, I say, but I exist. By
morning what joins me but the tune
of yet another bird, unseen, melodious,
the pulse of morning’s dew. Eternity.
How my straw tongue longs to sip it.
“Scarecrow Dreams” first appeared in the summer 2017 edition of Eclectica. Many thanks to poetry editor Jen Finstrom, for publishing several of my scarecrow poems.
O at the Edges 
This is the brilliance that assures poetry for eternity.
I love it!
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You’re very generous! Thank you.
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Incredibly fine work..I’m well stunned by the final line…such vivid imagery.
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Thank you. I’ve written about a dozen Scarecrow poems, and post them here from time to time. I keep thinking that I’ll write another, but Scarecrow hasn’t cooperated…
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He/she may be on vacation now that Halloween is over… 🙂
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That must be it!
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🙂
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Scarecrow can always bring me down to earth. (K)
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He keeps me grounded, even as I soar.
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Enough to wish I could likewise … “stalk about, / scaring rodents and their predators, / hooting in harmony with the owls / reveling in the night air” (though I’d likely not bother scaring, so busy reveling …)
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I’d prefer reveling, too, but it’s getting. bit too cold for outdoor reveling. 😀❄️
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Scarecrow’s advantage – no body, no chill …
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I seem to have too much body these days!
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One of the best of your Scarecrow musings. Such fine imagery and wistfulness.
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Thank you, Derrick.
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Well wrought verse – the last line really drives it home.
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Thanks very much, Jason.
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