In my backyard I planted a couple rows of corn

Worked the dirt and watered it until a sprout was born.

I marveled at the rate it grew how big it got so fast

My simple gardener’s expectations certainly surpassed!

I never had a green thumb so I never thought I could

Plant a little seed in dirt and it would turn out good.

My houseplants all despise me, they talk behind my back

Whispering I do suppose about the many skills I lack.

So I determined early to do everything just right

I would nurture those small kernels all day and then all night.

In my celebratory mindset I think I carried it too far

In my quest to be a gardening superstar.

I built a fence around my prize it stood a good four feet

Already dreaming of the cobs that would taste oh so sweet.

Just in time for autumn, just past the summer sun

Dripping sweet in butter and not to be outdone.

First the rabbits foraged. They got underneath the fence.

And I can tell you truly that it made me a little tense.

Then from the sky, a crow assault, why was I so surprised?

I hurried out and bought a scarecrow that I saw was advertised.

I stuck him in my cornfield, he had a happy smirk

In high spirits I guessed to be picked out to do this work.

But I took a big black marker and put a frown upon his face.

He’d have to look intimidating to work here in this place!

The crows just had a grand time tearing him apart.

They ripped him up and carried away his broken scarecrow heart.

So I put on a faded plaid shirt, some overalls and a hat

Went out into my garden with a broom and there I sat.

I swung my broom a plenty those days the corn grew there

And I hardly left my tender husks so deeply did I care.

The crows they soon grew tired of getting shooed about

This scarecrow she meant business of that there was no doubt!

Summer turned to autumn; it came on a gentle day

The breeze that smelled like fall had finally come my way.

The corn there in its ripeness, called now for a reaping

And in my heart I knew it had profited from my sweeping.

I guess the story’s not complete without a nice big ending.

My first prize corn is at the fair (the winner there still pending).

But the moral of this story about my corn upon the cob

Is never send a scarecrow to do a gardener’s job.

09/04/2005

Posted on 09/04/2005
Copyright © 2024 Mary Ellen Smith