As autumn slipped a breath of frost on us,
Some withered leaves tumbled free from the trees,
A bold old crow mocked in loud raucous fuss,
As brisk winds brought our scarecrow to his knees.
He huddled broken on the ground, alone,
his button eyes were sad unblinking pleas.
What did I do wrong? How can I atone?
Poor tatterdemalion, ill at ease.
A neighbour near, surveys his swimming pool,
Though all his instincts tell him to oppose,
the nearby hose, the brush: he's no fool,
The cooler days dictate it's time to close,
This scene is bathed in warm September light,
Sun speckled images within my sight
The WORD PAINTING Challenge with Debera (Debera)
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