Every Cataclysm Is a Let-Down Somewhere
He took a step, footprint sticking to the puffed wheat ground and bursting upwards in explosions of lesser gravityGreeting all the locals with a nod of his plastic wrapped head
They looked up from their gardens, from their lemonaide stands
As he passed, one slow-motion stride at a time
Some waved politely, some just briefly glanced, then ritually across the lawn and down at their watch
As he humbly posted his small windless flag beside their proud metal flag pole (alongside a few others, slightly askew), there were those who cooked their dinners and others who began a game of cricket
He hopped back to his vehicle, slightly confused with a tinge of embarrassment
The children shielded their eyes as he took off, while their mothers hurried them to their chores
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
Subscribe to Post Comments [Atom]
<< Home