THE NOTION OF A SCARECROW

Not everyone is meant to wear

Ruby slippers. Not everywhere

Does a road of yellow brick lead

To an Emerald City. You need

Not be a wizard to see past

 ifs and onlys into the vast

plains where a scarecrow – all her ends

Hanging askew – her sense contends:

Yes, straw sticks out my stitched in teeth

And yes, my hat sinks down beneath

My ears.  And yes, I cannot run –

Muscles flexing like everyone

Else. When the crow lands on my frock,

When songs of crickets pick and mock

And think a scarecrow void of thought

Know – Oh Joy, rapture, I think not.

“I’ve got a brain!”