Harvest

You reap what you sow, they say.

Well, the scarecrow sees it all.

He watches as you trudge the dirt,

Wellington boots on rain-soaked ground.

He watches as you rake the soil,

Hunched over steel, rapt and frozen.

He watches as you scatter seeds,

With glove-topped hands and nimble feet.

He watches as you spray the land,

Imparting care to thirsty roots.

He watches as the crows go by,

And circles in on sprouting life.

He watches as you sit and wait,

And prune and weed away the black.

He watches as you smile with pride,

Flora stretched out as if to shake,

To their maker, their God, their fate.

He watches as the plough descends,

To gather all that seeds give way.

He watches as fields are plucked brown,

Soon to be trudged and raked upon.

You reap what you sow, they say.

Well, the scarecrow sees it all.