Appreciation

There is bird crap on the car window. In the morning light it’s a gritty white ghost, a splatter still passing-by making its way to earth. The windscreen is a camera, excrement caught in flight like accidental art. With some imagination it could be a city landscape under a snowy sky. A humming miasma of midges is also fine art if you can stand it. Regarding art appreciation, I am on the fence, but sometimes, like now, I know what I don’t like.