Eyes in the field

How proud I was to plant my first garden,
going to grow all those little green things
they make into what you call salad that people tell me are healthy for you.

So I took the advice of a neighbor
our resident shrub sage on proper planting, he was an expert you see,
won a honorable mention once for writing a poem about a slug.

And what would be more necessary to protect my humble array of seed
than a pair of noble eyes of the field possessing a menacing glare?
These I gladly gave life in that scarecrow's face and form
which would surely strike fear in bird's wish to feed.

Being diligent and industrious
I created my stuffed masterpiece of soil sentinel
following faithfully the instructions I found on an Internet site.

It looked so threatening to me
standing with the help of that wooden post,
admittedly sort of sagging in spots,
but I was confident my toil to produce terror's perfect mask
could only render any potential aviary assault crippled with fright,
euphoric in my smugness at leaving it to save my fragile sprouts
from the wicked plots of ravenous feathers.

Next morning I rose to the horror
of seeing winged predators everywhere
and even resting on my creation,
finding out too late it was a big mistake indeed
to fill my crop guardian using only bird seed!