Contributor: Adam Whitworth

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It worries me not I seem a scarecrow
only the odd wind fluttering my suit
sunsets I've seen at the old riverbank
and faraway lights on the other side

colour draining slowly from the landscape
when day ends his project and turns away
in the gloom melancholy is mine yet
the very next day I'm inclined to paint

and sometimes it's clear I'm not even there
but flailing away in the capsized mind
I could be muttering angry curses
or fled to fields I wish into being

and so I'll seem a scarecrow if you will
buffetted by such enlivening winds


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