The Scarecrow and the Wheat Field

The scarecrow stands without a word, without a movement trembling only with the wave of the wind. The skeleton of its arms is open over the horizon of the wheat field without a word, without a movement. All the crows are far away. All the wheat is near. Its arms are open in its arms: the whole wheat field. Without a word, without a movement, it only stands the scarecrow only stands like my soul, forever, in the midst of the field of your golden life...