Rain on the Scarecrow

Scarecrow on a wooden cross blackbird in the barnFour hundred empty acres that used to be my farmI grew up like my daddy did my grandpa cleared this landWhen I was five I walked the fence while grandpa held my hand Rain on the scarecrow blood on the plowThis land fed a nation this land... Continue Reading →

Create a website or blog at WordPress.com

Up ↑

%d bloggers like this: