what if the calling crows think you are
a makeshift scarecrow built for chasing
them away from their dreams? will they
peck at you with sharp beaks so far from
my grasp? will I be able to run fast enough
to save you? the shifting rice tells me
to take a deep breath. this isn’t a cornfield
and the cranes won’t hurt you. but grey
skies mean trouble so run to me anyway
my boy. mother needs you in her arms.
Shoebox Poetry: This is the fourth poem in my series based on an old box of photos I inherited when my grandmother died in 2004. The back of this photo reads “Gary in rice field Nov ’53.” It’s a photo of my dad, but it made me think of my own boy. He turned 18 in December and is finishing high school in a few months. This poem poured out instantly along with some tears. I guess I have some feelings.
Here are the other poems in the series if you missed them:
Bridgette Tales 