Someone built a fence.
It was a split-rail fence at the edge of a park.
It was more decorative than functional, as split-rails are
wont to be.
It sat in the sun and rain and over the years it weathered
nicely.
Lichen called it home.
Someone was performing landscaping.
Weed-whacking is my guess.
Those rubberized gloves don't breathe.
They also work themselves free if you stuff them in a back
pocket and continue to weed-whack bare-handed.
I hope you maintained proper eye and ear protection.
Someone found the rubberized glove and placed it on the
nearest elevated surface.
The weed-whacking landscaper will discover the loss, interrupt
life, retrace steps.
Even days later.
Someone hopes.
Imagine the joy.
There it is!
A stranded sea star on a log.
A sad, deflated sauropod.
About as blue as anything.
2 comments:
Poetry! Yay!
Love: "Someone hopes." and "A stranded sea star on a log./A sad, deflated sauropd./About as blue as anything."
fun
=)
Like.
Always so happy when I see there's a new RPL post.
Oh, goody!
Like a present I'm excited to open.
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