The Apathetic Earth

Meaning is multitude. Man is many.

 

I greet thee, golden years,
as a grower welcomes dusk
after harvest, a twilight time.
He stands below emerald boughs
and watches fade the dominion
of a lean and lawful scarecrow,
who at last stretches wide to
survey the edge of his plot.
His kingdom is quiet and the
scythe has retired till sunrise.

O peaceful soul of straw.
Such peace he knows in night,
so free is he from government.
The squabbles of dim citizens
and the pains of bluster are
absorbed by the not-so-stars.
There is rest in whispered rows,
where the only voice is the
scratching of dry grass, like
the two legs of two crickets.

The meditation of escape
is broken, always, by the
scarred throats of large crows –
a murder, some might say.
They descend upon the field
and reap the work of their
gaunt and soundless king, and
the grower rises, squint-eyed.
He loves the corn for its taste.
He loathes it for the labor.

Reviews

[Shadows of Sight]

Nice poem! I don't like crows either. I can relate to the farmer. The crow is like the machines of political supression and taxation; Never letting the corn (people of the masses) just grow in peace. Your analogy of the scarecrow was wonderful. It's images leaped out and helped carry this peice.

In my opinion this was well writen and it's theme was one of universal understanding. (If people were open enough to listen.)

Sincerly,
Nature's Essence