The last of the crop has been harvested.

I shone brightly and was not targeted.

Left to radiate and slowly grow.

The worlds most prettiest Scarecrow.

I dance with the wind under moon and sun.

It whispers tales of troubles to come.

Still I smile as the trains come and go.

Look at me, The most handsome scarecrow.

Dog walkers joggers, all turn and stare.

They wonder what am I doing there.

They question but surely must know.

I am the worlds most beautiful scarecrow.