Scarecrows, I find, provide a harsh lesson on the deterioration of man at an accelerated rate. When first filled with leaves they prop themselves up sturdily. For a while he sat proud and tall observing the oak leaves falling in the yard. Oak leaves which rarely turn interesting colors, only brown. After a few weeks though, the scarecrow slumped in his chair, inches shorter than when he first came into being. Try as I might it was impossible to rearrange his drooping bodies in such a was as to regain his former presence. No wonder the crows laugh. Little harbingers of the grim reaper that they are, watching us trying in vain to stave off the march of time.
Perhaps next year it would be better to decorate the yard with bales of hay. Scarecrows are too depressing.
song: I Can't Stand Up For Falling Down • artist: Elvis Costello
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