Crow Call

I envy the swan
Bread-bloated, craned-neck spectacular
Who does not dread her profile.
I envy the thimble,
Small as nothing while weaving creation.
Gentle pushes.
I have watched them collect like crows,
Small & shiny.
Aspirations of a trinket.

I lay in the hoarder's gluttonous grass,
Fetal-folded in my best dollar-store glitter.
Here is where they will find me.
Above, talons circle
So sharp & so sure.
Somehow, I know what is coming.

Wielding scythes in their hazmat suits,
The Purgers have arrived.
I wonder if they, too,
Will leave me.

In the next life, I will return
Doomed as a doily.
If I had learned anything at all,
They'd give me a backbone.
O scarecrow,
You cower to no thicket.