Corn goes rustling, rustling, can’t see above the stalks, hot July sun, the scarecrow stands in the middle of the field, clothes lovingly stitched up, one little girl put a heart button in his pocket
The Scarecrow is a solitary creature, situated as it is, alone, in a field with no one to talk to. The birds that sit atop it’s shoulder are never there for the conversation. They are full of trickery and have their own ulterior motive for wanting to chat.
Corn goes rustling, rustling, can’t see above the stalks, hot July sun, the scarecrow stands in the middle of the field, clothes lovingly stitched up, one little girl put a heart button in his pocket
He stands tall admist the sea of gold. A wide, confident smile looming, keeping the shadows at bay.
The Scarecrow is a solitary creature, situated as it is, alone, in a field with no one to talk to. The birds that sit atop it’s shoulder are never there for the conversation. They are full of trickery and have their own ulterior motive for wanting to chat.