Now that I’m hooked again on “found art” I decided to fantasize about finding shards of poetry along with the objects I find along the way. This one is silly, and came, somehow, from the WordPress daily prompt “dirt.”
(Click on first picture and arrow to enlarge both photos.)
(This poem found fastened to a pail
by a spigot on a desert trail.)
When he retired, he bought a yacht
to go and see the things he’d not
seen those years when he’d been caught
behind a desk, perusing naught.
Sailing for years under the mast,
his fishing line he cast and cast––
happier than in the past,
roving over oceans vast.
But when he’d perused all that he
could see of oceans and of sea,
he yearned to visit family
to see once more dirt, hill and tree.
He visited his daughter Sue
to try to see what they could do
their former closeness to renew
while walking out to see the view.
As the day got hot and hotter,
this roving nomad and his daughter
began to reel, began to totter
as they searched for signs of water.
And when they saw the faintest traces,
they quickly livened up their paces,
and falling flat upon their faces,
they drank and drank at the oasis.
The moral of this little tale?
If you choose to furl your sail
to wander over hill and dale,
carry some water in a pail.