A Scarecrow’s Gratitude

by Frank Hubeny

Those ravens are black
and that fact is exact,
but a moonstone’s no moon
though there’s room to presume
that these wheat fields have wheat
and a scarecrow’s a beast.

Thus he cheerfully thinks
as the day flips to night
giving all gracious thanks
while the sun leaves the sky.

Linda Kruschke offers slant rhyme for this week’s Paint Chip poetry challenge.

2 Comments to “A Scarecrow’s Gratitude”

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