Unlikeliest of fabulists,

the rusting can, a busted seat
still trading stories to compete

recounting yarns beyond the yard
of wicked woods and marvels marred

when charming gardens rise to life
or where the farmer hatched his wife

of how the livestock bought the ranch
and lost it in an avalanche

and why the clouds still thump their drums
before Her Highness Winter comes

or whether gnomes shall plow the field
or what the nightly stars revealed.

Within the grass they glimpse their grail
and conquer ennui with a tale.