Scarecrows Know

Might there be those…

Upon the daybreak,

Find time to use the shadows

And slip into a barefoot stroll

Absent shoes

Left behind in the one room sanctuary,

Or wherever one might hide in isolation.

Might there be yet others…

Looking for a new refuge,

Prefer for the moment

The open unencumbered country,

The highway to another state empty at this hour.

Or…

There’s always the peace of a cemetery,

Where the silence of the birds

Perched in their trees

Is of little concern

To the permanent residents

Offering a living visitor respite,

Void of interruptions.

And then…

There is always a church,

Open at all hours,

Where one might enter

And find rest in the pews.

Yet…

Adventure might wade into a wheatfield,

Track down the scarecrow,

Trade clothes,

Just for a change,

And then stretch out on a soft spot

To have a thankful talk with the first cloud

Of this new day.

The fortunate ones…

Allow morning sunlight to reveal

Choices to manage

Lonely isolation.

Even scarecrows

Know all about such a plight.