Wednesday, October 23, 2013

Shed Door

The old shed door speaks mystery 
Where locks and latches once clamped
Tightly shut, now the door can swing open,
Proclaiming there is nothing to hide:.
Stacks of clay flower pots, a shovel, an ax, 
Three bent buckets, a couple of rakes
Sleep inside, too old for their labors.
A rusty bicycle with a basket but no 
Hand brakes, leather strap hung on a nail
Beside a beekeepers canvas hood
Burlap bags have fallen in a heap
A nest for chipmunks or squirrels
A pile of black walnut hulls and shells scattered
About—another mystery.

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