Written, April 22nd, 2022.

What is this body,

but leaves and twigs?

Bound with sinew twine

and spiderweb skin.

A scarecrow,

that's what it is.

Course hay hair

and stitched on feet.

A sackcloth head

and clothes made of sheets.

Strung up above

way up high.

Arms stapled firm

and a pole for a spine.

One day I'll rot

and fall to the wheat.

Until that day

I'll fail my name

and to the birds I will greet.

Oh, it will be some time

before I fall.

But the farmer said

I'm a useless bale.

So, he may remove me

Before I can touch the ground.

But, at least I'll have heard the birds.

Before I'm unwound. 

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