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Yard Sale
Short Tale
By Jed Duvall Bring horse and wagon or maybe a truck; So much stuff, you’ll know you’re in luck!
There’s a couch that opens to a bed for sleeping on Or is it a bed that closes for sitting on?
We’ve pictures for the walls, a table for the hall. And puzzles plus books, and small things for nooks.
There are animals, stuffed; an angel for the tree. Cross-stitching for you, flannel sheets for me.
Come pedal this exercise bike and go nowhere at all; Then run an old table saw and let the chips fall.
There’s this and there’s that, and a blue yoga mat. It’s collected, in all, at the same Fire Hall Where we sell stuff each year At prices not dear.
Write it down, jot and tittle, In Washington, Little.
This Saturday coming, we open at eight. We’ll have coffee that’s hot, and tea that is not.
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