The Scarecrow

Today, the bird senses an unusual thing
When above the field she flies over.
Not like usual, she'd swoop down in a flash
Her instinct forbids her, warning her the hidden danger.
Eyeing down the wide plantation,
A stranger stands in the middle, preying,
Motionless, cautious, she knew, reschedules her landing.
The enemy has hired a spy to track her,
To crush her flat to the ground
Like she crunches his grains into tiny sands.
Fight the enemy, she must, so is this stranger
When no hatred emerges between them.
She goes near the stranger with the straw hat;
Down she perches, on the boldest stalk,
Bending the blade to bow to the stranger.
“How do ya do. How do ya do,”
Her shrill voice twitters in the clear air.
The stranger, still, stares gloomily at her.
The bird, escaping her intuition,
Flutters to the shoulder of the stranger.
Another bird flies by, breaking the ice,
“Hey, look, a scarecrow,” to her fellows behind.