A rust-

A rust-
colored four
by four, at
the end of the
weathered
planks of the
fence or
maybe
wall I can
see through
the window, is
bedecked by dusty
spider-
webs at intervals along
its height; they
vibrate, sag,
and lift in
the breeze; silver
threads shimmer and
disappear; a twisted dry
trout-
shaped leaf does an un-
predictable dance. And all
of this for a life-
time, I’ve
thought un-
important.

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About nosuchthingasastraightline

I grew up in tiny Lyme, New Hampshire, where I drew, roamed the surrounding woods, and first entertained the idea of God while listening to my mom's Beatles records. I studied biology at Harvard University where I wrote for The Harvard Lampoon and also began writing poetry. I have since made a living variously as a comedy screenwriter, teacher, and private tutor in math, science and writing. I’ve released three CDs of original music as the singer-songwriter and guitar player for Crooked Roads (listen to latest tracks here: https://soundcloud.com/crooked-roads). My poetry writing has been inspired by Rumi, Billy Collins, William Carlos Williams, e.e. cummings, Antonio Machado, Federico Garcia Lorca, and others. My two books of poetry, "The Morning I Married the Sky," and “Free this Morning” are both available on Amazon.
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2 Responses to A rust-

  1. ivors20 says:

    You spun a thoroughly intriguing yarn here, with a nice important ending.

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