Elizabeth Gargano: Harvest

One morning the crows settle

on the corn in our garden,

dark flames on the candled stalks.

.

I plant a broom in the earth,

straw end up, wrap it in an old

raincoat, topped with a baseball cap.

That’s when the caws turn to laughter.

They know that trick.

.

Nothing to do but practice

being a human scarecrow

waving the broom in impotent circles

like a witch who’s forgotten the spell

to lift off, her baseball cap slipping

over one eye, her raincoat trailing

in the grass, feet rooted in the earth.

—

Copyright 2015 Elizabeth Gargano