A Song To the Unsung

These are the ones who dare, these gloved old men with plastic bags who roam the lanes on foot while I drive by, for they are more aware of the adorning, aleatoric splendor of the flashing crinkled cans, the cups and wrappings scorning those who prized them for the moment, flying to their rest, behind. But now the countryside stripped bare in naked challenge to the passers by invites its heroes, still unsure who they may be, the revellers who flee before their minds take rest upon their artifice, or those who prize the green and see the art of the pristine. ~