Tomorrow the Scarecrow


Nothing’s afraid of him.
Look at the blue jay stealing
his straw for the nest.

No reason to be scared of tomorrow
while today grows sky high.

Then they mow his field.
Set fire to his forest.
Disappear down a maze of streets
hidden in the haze.

Now the mountain looms
beyond charcoal trees
and time unwinds tomorrow’s ties.

Crying with laughter he stands,
walks, jogs through the blister.
Vanishes in the smog.

I want to call out to him
but my voice is tinder.
I want to give chase
but my limbs would catch fire.

Maybe his tears will save him.

Paul Sherman is a recluse living in the mountains of western North Carolina. He reads his poetry to the forest that creeps close to his house. He carries binoculars to view the warblers that sometimes appear in the trees to listen. His work has yet to be found.

Editor’s Note: A scarecrow (pngtree)is combined with an apocalyptic scene from a French site: L’apocalypse. La fin du monde.

http://www.canald.com/decouvertes/tops/le-top-des-apocalypses-possibles-1.1411130

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