The Nature of The Contest

The woods have wormed their way into our circle. 

Far ahead of the crowd

I spy the seedling between the rafters of her unprotected attic.

Drinking up a daily dose of sun, wind, and water.  

And the youth is thriving.

I marvel too at the muscular frame of the house where the joints connect, listing only slightly, to bear the weight of the sagging front porch and

exposed rooftop, half of which is bare and splintered.

Where also the eaves droop, and a presumable gutter once diverted the rain. 

Except for one, the windows and curtains are now closed and drawn, suggesting an infestation of the rodent class. While an abandoned vehicle jutting prominently out into the street provides front row seating.

Missing shingles snake through the tall grass and untrimmed bushes forming the perimeter. 

Bare beams brace now for the coming deluge. 

As the unruly remnant announce their intention upon the uneasy inhabitants of the neighborhood.

In the center ring, we witness

a former elegant lady vs. the natural world. 

They have both weighed in. 

 Excited about the contest, I place my bet.

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