I used to see them all the time.
I could hardly set foot out the door without encountering one ... dressed as Santa Claus ... as a witch ... a clown ... a cowboy ... as almost anything ... or anybody ... except what they really were: concrete geese.
I can't imagine where they've all gone ... flown south for the winter? Oh, I hope not. The very thought of them aloft scares me a bit.
Perhaps the fad is ebbing. But while it was here, almost everybody ... at least in my neighborhood ... had at least one ... sometimes more.
Understandable then, that I eventually gave in and wrote something about them ... and here it is:
Heads held high,
dots for eyes,
the porches, line
the lawns, ever alert
for the gawkers
They never move,
nor honk, nor
but in their cold,
seem to know
who dare even
steal a glance.
(originally published in Capper's)
Today's word: gawkers
Afterthoughts ... in response to your comments:
It's just a wild goose - er, guess, Magran, but I would guess the reason that it's concrete rabbits there ... and concrete geese here ... is that the concrete rabbits have scared the concrete geese away ... and, here, vice versa. Seriously, the ones I've seen have displayed a high level of creativity on the part of the owners, and I always looked forward to seeing them ... the geese, that is ... on my walks.
I know, Southernmush, how unpredictable geese can be. I'm always curious, too, about how suddenly, as if by a signal from one of their group, they lift off and are gone. Then, sometimes, they reappear, gliding gracefully onto the water again. I suppose we ... creatures which merely walk around, because we have no wings ... seem as mysterious to them.