Something there is that doesn't have a brain
Despite its best efforts a dullard it remain
Actions automated, words he puts down
Reading and reviewing it leaves him with a frown
Watching and watching! Was it all for naught?
Intelligence eludes him, that is his lot
Scanning the sky with eyes, weary they grow
Reflecting his mind, how could he know?
Work is all that matters, I want my name on art
Pour out the words this is where you start
Mind not the fear though it fill you with hurt
Anchored, the scarecrow glares, in the dirt
Ravens and crows take flight from his sight
The broomstick stares forward, all day and all night
Stand fast before it, return its gaze.
Stay in touch 
