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.
~
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