We were nearly back to the house when the front end loader shattered the silence and back filled the hole drove off some vireos and cowbirds
amped up seven whitetail browsing the pine break above Calusa Way. American Spirit ******* a new moon **** of mouth
the operator feathered the lever while gathered together we grazed potato salad, deviled eggs, sliced ham, rain from the Gulf over to Melbourne
soaking the operatorβs boots ducking into his pickup truck for the long drive home to Pedro. It hammered the tin roof shed
out back where your tools tarps, trouble lights, line trimmer home brew insecticide in unmarked milk jugs, old spark plugs
a lifetime of nuts, bolts and washers huddled warm and dry on shelves ball peened the tamped sand lozenge on the ragged fringe of the silent ranks.
Itβs hard to find even with a map Calusa Way coiling through the bahia grass flowing past stone faced theater goers house lights up well past their final act.
Vireos and cowbirds even the whitetail browsing the pine break pay me no mind down on hands and knees
undoing the honest work of the operator, sifting handfuls of sandy backfill for something I might have missed.