Disconnected by Tim Gardiner

This roadside memorial to a not-so-distant past
is a pleasant surprise for the distracted motorist.
Peeling crimson paint on an upright coffin
may have lost its lustre, its primary function.
But no one told spineless armies the line is dead
for this is nature’s website, a converted shed.
Cracked glass panes, victims of the vandals’ sin
and a missing door allow harsh elements in.
Last year’s leaves form a curled carpet
sheltering a nook where ladybird lovers met.
Ivy climbs the cord, as if to pick up the receiver
for dark green cables have a tightening grip here.
A stick-like caterpillar appears frozen on the metal
spiders scurry among dislodged, wind-blown petals.
Webs long since constructed cover disused corners
as creeping brambles seek to join the insiders.
The suckering blackthorn of the blossoming hedge
seeks to snare this monument in its vigorous clutch.
In time all human constructs must pass to wilderness
for we are only temporary guardians, soon disconnected.


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