Hand Me Down to die

[ChristopherSea]

Version 2

In Mom’s frayed wool pants,
I sweltered this summer.
The red flannel shirt
from Dad was no better.

I’m deadhead to head
with bronzing sunflowers,
wearing my Grandpa’s
tattered Fedora.

With Harvest over,
starved hoarfrost nips harder.
Stiff neck's scarcely cloaked
by Sissy’s torn muffler.

Pitied daylilies
when the bees droned their ears
recalling abuse
through this lingering year:

Rabble of magpies
pinched my fancy buttons.
Rowdy masked bandits
struck in veil of darkness.

Relentless sparrows,
cruelling tore away threads,tore threads away cruelly?
not seeking consent
before lining their nests.

Deer gnawed needlessly
at my hat made of hemp.
Voles carted away
the dry husks of my flesh.

All faith in me lost,
with my chores forsaken,
yet everyone knew
that crows would not frighten.

A big yes to this. There are unmetaphorical metaphors (the best kind!) stretched comfortably over each stanza. An element of discomfort pervades the whole thing and is tinglingly delicious. An excellent piece.

Thank for your kind words and recognition of the work that I put into this tectak. I will certainly consider the suggestion of yours! That particular line was a problem spot for some reason.