Retired from the fields of corn, <br />the old scarecrow stands <br />abandoned on the lawn; <br />old ropes, binding his hands. <br /> <br />Almost ashamed to be wearing <br />the ripped cap on his straw head, <br />his tall shadow tearing <br />sunlight from the flowerbed. <br /> <br />He stands, surrounded by the flock, <br />laughing at his disgrace: <br />even the baby sparrows mock <br />his scarf-hidden face. <br /> <br />Clinging to the wooden stake, <br />his stiff stick neck tied, <br />and arms spread, wide awake <br />in the soil – crucified.<br /><br />Stug Jordan<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-old-scarecrow/
