And So I Crowed In Mockery

 

And so I crowed in mockery,

©-MFB III 

 

And so I crow

in mockery,
no more a child,
in cornfield

canyons trembling,
that you might flee
your gnarled sticks
in one long leap
and steal my soul,

I stand before

 the real you,
as I laugh out loud
at canvas bags
and old men's clothes.

Stuffed rather full
of harmless straw
and yellowed

newspapers rolled tight
with arms that long ago
winds moved to beckon me
to come within your grasp,
and fall beneath your spell.

All nature fled your visage,
back then, so to did I
you were a terror
and a wonder to behold.

I was but five,
and would run

 wailing from the fields,
quite sure that you,
were dashing on

stick legs behind me,
breathing your

sawdust clouds,
and closing in quite fast.

But now I stand,
almost as tall

as what I feared,
and so I slap

your dusty chest
then turn away,
chuckling at

all the fears
I've banished

here at last.

Alas three steps

and then
straw claws

grip me viselike,
and I become

the scarecrow,
tied to your

cruel cross,
as you bound

happy in my flesh
to life's pursuits.

my fixed eyes

stare at who I was,
my breathless mouth,
tastes ancient hay,
instead of yelling

hey at you.

I have become 

my greatest fear
hung out to dry.