Mystery Box
Mystery Box
A gray morning made of concrete, bricks and clay
Where rain ceased, thin tributaries, stayed calm
Final elements of wet, evaporated in the thin streams
Faded into small crevasses on the street
Soundless on the emergent day
It was easy to see, above the road by the bridge
A faceless hard ground cracked by age
A green cube, sitting there, waiting
At the functional spot, at the center of attention
With singular precise proportions sealed, a box in angular perfection
Buildings looked up with windows closed, in disdain, in disbelief
Refrained from making roof top speculations about the thing
Rivers too looked away from this location
Moved babbling rapidly on
Hid under bridges, under rocks, with every drop concealed
Then ran like fugitives over brooks, overlooked and flooded
Avoided confrontation in the dark cornered waters
Hexahedrons could be contagious
So all things in nature moved away
Green box was out there all exposed in broad daylight
Made of metal or something else or so it seemed
There were no openings for that matter
Just six sides residing
No proofs that it was solid like a block
No facts laid out that it was empty like lost souls
Speculations indicated nothing but a box
Quiet fell around it like a hammer
Looking for a nail that was not there
Clearly, the cube that sat in plain view
Had nothing better to do
To bring this matter to conclusion
It was avoided at all cost
Box or not
This was its final stop
Copyright © Earl Schumacker | Year Posted 2014
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