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GARDEN GUARDIAN

Tired old scarecrow, tattered and torn
Looking shabby and quite forlorn
His clothes are ripped from summer wind
Gaping where they once were pinned

Months ago, in summer sun
He proved his worth with job well done
While flapping arms in disarray
He made the crows stay well away

But now birds perch upon his hat
And snow piles high to smash it flat
He’s seen to shiver more and more
Freezing to his very core

We’ll bring him in where it is warm
Where he’ll avoid the winter storm
I’ll fill his sleeves and sew his rips
Of course I’ll repaint eyes and lips

And when the winter weather’s gone
Just as birds break into song
He’ll take his place as garden guard
And keep the crows out of the yard

11/14/04 Phyllis DeWitt-VanVleck

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scarecrow
This poem is the form of a Neville and thank you to http://www.PrairieGardens.com for this frightful pair of scarecrows.

THE SCARECROW

Sad old scarecrow, tattered and torn.
I think I heard him cry,
or did the wind just sigh?
No wonder poor old thing’s forlorn . . .
no duty to uphold —
he shivers in the cold,
in his summer clothes, thin and worn.

9/9/04 Phyllis DeWitt-VanVleck

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    SAD OLD SCARECROW


 


Sad old scarecrow, tattered and torn                    


I think I heard him cry,


or did the wind just sigh?


No wonder poor thing’s so forlorn —


no duty to uphold,                    


he shivers in the cold,


in summer clothes he’s always worn         


 


9/9/04       Phyllis DeWitt-VanVleck

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