Man of Straw

William C. Burns


The snow capped, rusty corn stalks
  sway
The grain gone to
  bellies of birds
      and granary bins

I meditate on
The unemployed scarecrow's lopsided smile
  his outstretched arms
      his posture

An invitation to dance?
I wonder . . .

On a whim
I look for footprints in the snow

Copyright CrossConnect, Inc. 1996

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