You may have caught a glimpse of him slipping through the meadow,
Unassuming, as he sidles down the bank.
A subtle recollection, how he seemed to linger longer
Than is normal when just looking at a plank.
No reason though to second guess an ordinary guy
Taking time out for his daily constitution.
Another elder statesman and ten thousand daily steps,
A requisite for any health solution.
Fair to say this observation isn’t too far from the truth
And if challenged would provide a good defense.
But more subtle motivations drive this man to walk the streets,
If exposed may lead to serious offence.
Convinced that reclamation should be practiced as a right
And that all things can be useful given time.
He won’t hesitate to relocate an item that he finds
Unaware of the potential for a crime.
What basis can I offer for this local exposé?
Is it more than idle gossip and tall tales?
Sadly, every recollection represents his very words
Flowing freely after one or two cold ales.
This wasn’t idle banter fueled by alcohol and laughs
Or an over eager host giving a show.
The detailed explanation was a vivid tour de force
Of his kleptomanic, waste obsessed M.O.
He dances through the shadows in the darkest hours of night,
Ever cautious, circles round his target gate.
Those piles of native timber lying just within his reach
Are the latest golden prize he’ll liberate.
With the cunning of a fox and as silent as the dead
He lovingly repatriates the lumber.
Then returning to his lair, carefully locking up his hoard,
Congratulates himself in peaceful slumber.
There’s underlying logic to his actions and intent
And a well-considered, thought out point of view.
The streets are full of wonders that with careful restoration
Can be made to function just as good as new.
So who can sit in judgement when the final outcome shines?
Is this act a noble trait or fatal flaw?
Either way it’s academic, a simple truth prevails,
That possession works as nine tenths of the law.