on wires tapped

​As he always did in the weeks before Spring, the farmer tapped the wires that led into his white house and red barn. ‘This one’s as solid as it ever was,’ he thought, bent at the waist and listening to the hum and crackle of the taunt length of steel that connected the post out by the road to the front corner of the red barn.

He then tapped the wire leading into the white house, but - hanging limply - it resounded but with a dull and twangy thumping tone; it had worked loose from a rotten stump, halfway down the lane, that he’d been meaning to address the previous Fall. “Doggonnit,” he muttered, “I must immediately remove that meddlesome stump and replace it with a more solid, trustworthy pillar.”

americanifesto / JPR / whorphan / 場黑麥