The Scarecrow
By Walter de la Mare
All winter through I bow my head
beneath the driving rain;
the North Wind powders me with snow
and blows me black again;
at midnight 'neath a maze of stars
I flame with glittering rime,
and stand above the stubble, stiff
as mail at morning-prime.
But when that child called Spring, and all
his host of children come,
scattering their buds and dew upon
these acres of my home,
some rapture in my rags awakes;
I lift void eyes and scan
the sky for crows, those ravening foes,
of my strange master, Man.
I watch him striding lank behind
his clashing team, and know
soon will the wheat swish body high
where once lay a sterile snow;
soon I shall gaze across a sea
of sun-begotten grain,
which my unflinching watch hath sealed
for harvest once again.
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Paul had to go to the office on Thursday early, so I had a quiet morning at home with the cats, then he came home for lunch and we had butternut squash soup and cheddar cheese. We had gorgeous not-too-warm weather and took a longer walk to see some Halloween decorations and trees a couple of blocks away.
Nearly my whole Thursday night chat group was away this week, so I just talked to Cheryl briefly, and I also talked to my college roommate on the phone so that was lovely. Evening TV was the Baltimore-Tampa Bay game, and the Ravens beat the Bucs, so it was fun! Middletown has an annual Scarecrow Contest:
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