Wisdom of the Scarecrow

From the first burp
of a shoot bursting its tomb
to the dozing off
of a harvested plant
life remains a mystery.

There is significance in small things:
the subterranean wisdom of earthworms
the collegial hum of bees
the fantasies of the cabbage grub
the silent plodding of beetles
and how ants and aphids conspire.

It takes a whole season
of watermelon mornings
and peach nights,
all the moods
from mourning to petulance
languid afternoons
to sensual alyssum-scented nights
to grow a garden.

The gardener’s watchfulness
doesn’t keep squash
from escaping over the fence
bindweed from sneaking in
and slugs from leaving glittering trails
to leaf-skeleton remains
of last night’s orgy.

For some
salvation comes
in cages, twine and shears.

I, myself, am nothing
without creeping shadows
the aging of rain
and the life of the wind

© 2006 – V. Nesdoly

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This poem won Honorable Mention in the Utmost Poetry Contest, 2006. It was first published there.