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