Yellow Against Iron

They say it drifts, a lovely thing,

a moment that the breezes bring.

But mine was stuck, no graceful flight,

just flapping in the fading light.

A grocery bag, a faded yellow,

caught on spikes, a broken fellow.

An iron fence, with teeth so keen,

held it captive, an ugly scene.

It tore and strained, a sickly sigh,

like something left to rot and die.

Not floating free, a painter's dream,

just garbage caught in nature's stream.

And I just walked on by.