The old hemp rope swung quietly from the top of the sturdy tar coated pole.
Time and the seasons had caused most of it’s strands to rot, leaving it practically useless.
A knot tied long ago seemed to grow out of a rusty metal eyelet that had been screwed into the pole by a quiet man who took his life in the summer of ‘29.
It’s home high up on that pole was once a place of honor when it still had a job to do.
Except for a rare car hopelessly lost, that old hemp rope led a solitary existence on the side of that dusty road for the better part of a century.
Echoes of drum beats from 4th of July parades resonated in the smallest fibers of that old rope.
The smoke of a barbeque.
The laughter of a sack race.
Like everything else, like you and me, that old hemp rope had it’s time.
Did the man who broke the silence even look up before he started pulling on the rope attached to his chainsaw?
Would he have made the connection?
Time and the seasons had caused most of it’s strands to rot, leaving it practically useless.
A knot tied long ago seemed to grow out of a rusty metal eyelet that had been screwed into the pole by a quiet man who took his life in the summer of ‘29.
It’s home high up on that pole was once a place of honor when it still had a job to do.
Except for a rare car hopelessly lost, that old hemp rope led a solitary existence on the side of that dusty road for the better part of a century.
Echoes of drum beats from 4th of July parades resonated in the smallest fibers of that old rope.
The smoke of a barbeque.
The laughter of a sack race.
Like everything else, like you and me, that old hemp rope had it’s time.
Did the man who broke the silence even look up before he started pulling on the rope attached to his chainsaw?
Would he have made the connection?
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1 comment:
Well Written
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