Friday, February 18, 2011

glitter bug

Making the dash from parked car to front door at work, my gaze was suddenly skyward. Bobbing along on the breeze was a small white plastic bag as full of wind as any sail. It puffed along like a wayward balloon until branches tree high snagged it. Deflated, it hung forlornly.
It was then that I noticed another white bag flapping in a nearby tree. Why had I never notices this phenomenon of air-borne trash before?
Moments later, the little bag was plucked from the tree by a gust and sailed over the fence and along the street, the path of the wind suddenly revealed like clothing on an invisible man.
Beautiful garbage.

"Look Grandma," my little grandson gasped. We had been out for a stroll in the neighborhood. "Someone was a glitter bug."
My gaze lifted from the litter strewn street and in my mind's eye I seemed to see sparkling insects with iridescent wings; glow in the dark garbage, twinkling trash.

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