Iron legs brittle to the touch
ready to snap like dry twigs,
and yet it still carries mulch, tools, and plants.
Wheels tried and true.
Metal a sunset hue.
It’ll collapse no doubt into a heap on the ground
spilling its contents to be judged by the earth.
I wonder what will finally make it fail.
The stones? The dirt? The rain?
It’s a matter of when, not if.
All carriers crumble under the weight.