A half naked mannequin
stands as garden plot sentinel

Her skirts a mess, ragged hem line
just above the June sweet corn circling her knees

as the morning breeze
plays her cornhusk hair

In sunrise light, the topless figure
is a shapely angel dancing carefree

as one moves closer permanently painted lips
offer a timid smile frozen in time

And yet, I wonder if the molded form of a woman
will frighten birds, could summon rain

should drought torture the earth

Who needs a crossed poles T
dressed in the hand-me-downs of a man

when an inviting jewel
bathed in blushing, blossoming light,

right-hand pointing northward,
can greet you each morning