Photo courtesy of Celso A. Torres Pirron / Unsplash
I sit and stare at the light post before me.
The once sleek steel is scratched,
The sheen is long gone
The sun having weathered and worn its color
Beyond repair.
The bulb is dulled,
Once shining on the sidewalk
Like a spotlight,
Now flickering, failingly florescent
Barely even showing
Cracks in the concrete.
The plastic cover is cracked,
The bugs confined inside
Fall and fly from within,
Finally free from many years of chasing
The light posts once bright light.
Though a gentleness still remains,
As the new spring leaves caress
This old lamp post,
Nature not caring how weak
Or weathered it may be.
The spiders have noticed
The gradual,
Yet natural,
Dishevelment of this light,
Having attached their long silky strands
From plastic to tree,
A uniquely opportunistic ability
Given by this light post
Directly in front of me.
