parting clouds over the field of wheat
split the gray into a sea of golden rays
bright enough to leave even the blindest man at his feet
passing wind slithers by
carrying with it seeds and soft cries
tears from the protector of all the crop
the lonely scarecrow who stays planted
his tune the most melancholy of acoustics
a tranquil coffee shop
birds circle frightfully overhead
for they do not know their avoidance leaves the scarecrow all but dead
he who never meant any harm
but who's appearance raises cacophonous alarm
cursing the sky, the scarecrow shouts
yet, the scarecrow will soon get his wish
once his stump dries he will be free with the coming drought
so as the farmer prays for rain,
he questions God's whereabouts
Feb 23, 2016
Feb 23, 2016 at 8:05 PM UTC
parting clouds over the field of wheat
split the gray into a sea of golden rays
bright enough to leave even the blindest man at his feet
passing wind slithers by
carrying with it seeds and soft cries
tears from the protector of all the crop
the lonely scarecrow who stays planted
his tune the most melancholy of acoustics
a tranquil coffee shop
birds circle frightfully overhead
for they do not know their avoidance leaves the scarecrow all but dead
he who never meant any harm
but who's appearance raises cacophonous alarm
cursing the sky, the scarecrow shouts
yet, the scarecrow will soon get his wish
once his stump dries he will be free with the coming drought
so as the farmer prays for rain,
he questions God's whereabouts
