Tue, 02/04/2014 - 22:51 -- lsutton

On her way to make pocket change

Fridgid wind biting her face

She sees

it half submerged in the bank

frozen solid

clear as ice

out of place

unnatural continuity of shape

giving it away.


She sighs, closes her eyes and

imagines how it came

forgotten, maybe

with a laugh and


an ill bird trying to fly

until it came to rest.

Thousands of its kind

and hundreds

of passerbys

but to not one had it crossed the mind.


She looked

then stooped and

picked it up

chuckling at

what little difference it made.



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