The Hydrant
There he stands, the stoic guard, defending against the fire. Short he is, below my gaze, but harder than even my heart. I almost wonder if some poor soul was given this form as punishment for misdeeds in a past life. If that is so, he must have atoned by standing so long on silent guard through summer's heat and winter's snow. I cannot detect the smallest hint of there ever having been fire near him. I admire him so, this little guard - the hydrant on Campus Drive.
Winking
The windows made me wink as I walked by. They caught the light of the setting sun and turned it white, magnified it, and threw it joyfully into my eye.
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