When I see the old water tank
Propped up by the shed
And the cunning gutter rusted through.
I feel so sad to think it once was new.
And on the fork the worm has fed.
It’s tines dig only half the bed.
The cautious grub is at the root
And the robin sings unfed.
With shops that fail
And rusted gates with rusted chains,
My heart goes out to untended things.
Though I suppose they lasted well.
And all our works will be the same.
They are not needed now.
For on the fork the worm has fed.
It’s tines dig only half the bed.
The cautious grub is at the root
And the robin sings unfed.
About the Creator
Sinbad McCaffrey
I tell stories to whoever will listen. My Greek father told me Odysseus stories I never found in Homer and my Glaswegian mother told me tales of war time, joy and grief. Music, writing, parenting and making gardens is what I do.
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How the Harvest Mouse Came to Suisun Bay
A long, long time ago there was a family of harvest mice. Mice are common, but these were unique – born to those who had lived in the salty, marshy bay for many generations, these mice ate and drank from the sea as well as the land and rivers. For generations, there were only the southern families, scattered along the marshes of Corte Madera and in the San Francisco Bay (U.S. Fish & Wildlife, 2013). One family, however, would undergo strife and conflict before reaching a whole new world. What became of them after is another tale entirely – but this is how their story begins.
By Taylor Inman6 days ago in Fiction
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