In a greensward that I walk past every day,
A yellow scaffold warned me to take care,
In my distraction not to go astray
And fall into those innards, now laid bare.
To see a space revealed beneath the ground,
Gainsaying the solidity of sod,
Is fascinating, though it can confound
To see that the familiar’s just facade.
And peering down, a part of me expects
To see a caucus race or beanstalk rise
Thus rendering reality convex,
A world beyond the banal it belies.
And all who seek it shall be crowned the queen
Who rules the rules inside of the unseen.
An insightful little poem – exquisite rhyme of sod, and façade.
An off-topic question. Do you pronounce your name wee-brr, or web-brr? 😕
Thank you so much! I’m so happy you enjoyed! My people are short “e” Webers, like in “red,” though when we speak with actual German people we become Vay-brrs.