Scarecrows
 

Towering to the heavens
Casting shadows dark
Across the melon patch,

Stretching high across the sky
Straw fingers threat'ning
Feathered fiends to snatch.

Scarecrows
Without the breath of life
Scarecrows
Specters that cannot speak,
Scarecrows
Stuck high on splintered sticks
Scarecrows
The useless gods we seek.

Chunks from forests rough cut
Shaped divine by chisel, and
Nailed down so as to not totter,

Nuggets and veins mined so deep
Fashioned fair by expert hands
Worshipped by every son and daughter.

Scarecrows
Adorned in faded purples and blues
Scarecrows
Stuffed full from collar to cuff,
Scarecrows
That perish in fire and wind
Scarecrows
Empty idols not near enough.

Look to Him who stretched out the heavens!
Look to Him who spoke light into the dark!
Look to Him who created earth and sky!
Look to Him who grew the forests tall!
Look to Him who buried gold and silver in the hills!
Look to Him who caused the wind to blow and roar!
Look to Him who blew His breath into our soul!
Look to Him!

Anyone or
Anything at all, 
Are just scarecrows
Destined to fall.
 

Jeremiah 10: 1-16
 
 
 
by J. Alan R.

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