Ode to Bollard

Oh, Bollards; Oh, Bollards.
Pillars of my community.
Through old-town alley and downtown street,
past art and fun,
in winter cold and summer heat,
you guide me,
protect me.
For my comings out and my goings in
you keep me out of harms way.
Ode to Bollard
Bob Komives 
Yet,
do I notice?
do I say?
“Thank you, Bollard,”
or even:
“Bollard, good day!”
No, Bollard; No, Bollards.
At least,
not until this morning
when you helped me walk 
to museum (that has genius on display),
to old town's square, 
then
by that place of playful children.
You kept me from 
traffic's hazards,
ugly's dumpsters,
then guided me on 
to hardware store for errand of the day.

Oh, Bollards; Oh Bollards.
Where buildings loom tall and cubical,
(where straight streets abound)
you too stand straight, 
but
short,
humble,
round.

Oh, Bollard; Oh, Bollards.
While you are too noticed and familiar 
to
Canis 
lupus 
familiaris,
you are visibly invisible,
unfamiliar,
ignored,
alien
to
Homo
sapiens 
sapiens.

Oh, Bollards; My Bollards.
Pillars of my protection.
Please take notice of my notice;
please accept my affection.

Bob Komives :: Fort Collins © 2015 :: Ode To Bollard  :: 1504