Connor J Sheffield

Scarecrow Grin

Guardian of the crops

An inanimate fear

As crows circle above

While the golden sun sets

The night is drawing near

 

As the village sleeps

In house or Inn

The inanimate springs free

Scaring unwary travelers

With his scarecrow grin

 

No bodies were found

Only terrifying screams remain

The scarecrow is back on his perch

Scaring off the crows

Who fly over the golden grain

 

Many seasons pass

No more villagers in the Inn

No villagers at all

All that's left is the guardian

Still wearing his Scarecrow Grin