The scarecrow stands as a testament to the constant watch. Always on guard, blue button eyes snarling at the feathered menaces of the sky. Steadfast in fields of green & gold. Then there is the snowman. A frozen plaything. Still as winters heart & inept in the categories of protection or guardianship, but filled with love & hope; a friend when no other can be found.

But as distant as these two creatures are they share a very common ground, for both operate at opposite ends of the same inanimate existence.

What the snowman lacks in accountability, it makes up for in companionship. & what the scarecrow fails to comprehend in terms of the heart, it replaces with with a faultless loyalty.

The irony is that the snowman could never understand how much the scarecrow wishes for the ability to love & be loved, while the scarecrow will always be oblivious to the snowmans desire to live longer than a season at a time. To be more than just a passing trend. To be needed.

Alas, neither has the sense to speak to the other, nor woild they do so if they did, for pride is the other behavior they share. & it is pride that both will take to the grave.

In stillness & silence they live. In stillness & silence they die.

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