A single, lone post. Old, worn, wrapped in rusted barbed wire. A remnant of a fence long decayed and lost. And growing up all around it, new, orange, wild day lilies. It was a pretty scene. It demanded my attention. Happened upon by complete accident. A little beauty to brighten up the day.
Washed up. Lost. Missing. Worn. Weathered.
To me it seemed to be in the right place at the right time. The marks hold a story. I see its beauty. It just sat there as the sun faded behind it and water crashed around it. Waiting for me to capture its beauty.
The ball is mine now.