A sign - Epilogue
When I walked down to inspect the sign the following morning,
sun sparkled from its plaque and I could see,
as I neared,
that it was a brand new steel pole,
inserted exactly in the old crater
and neatly pounded in.
Nay, it had been seamlessly, signlessly, installed.
It was as though it had never been away.
Of my righting branch,
there was no sign.
But wait...
there, at the foot of the pole,
a white glint.
A bit of the broken branch?
No, the white object looked bigger...
and smaller.
I waited for a car to pass, then crossed the road.
On my haunches, I gazed
at the intact rictus of a kangaroo skull.
Bill Woottton
15 August, 2012
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