Amongst my favorite things (not whiskers, kittens, geese or mittens) are found objects, especially found poetry. Perhaps there's no such thing but I fancy I do encounter it occasionally, actually I'm sure it's going on around me all the time and it's just that occasionally I happen to notice it, usually over an extended period of time. I particularly liked this one; dropping off a rental car at John Wayne Airport, Orange County, finding my gate, waiting around, getting on the airplane...

Attention all drivers, has anyone seen

A sixty-nine year old woman with red hair and a denim jacket.

She has been missing since six o'clock this morning

Missing a green velvet bag with an angel inside it.

Please can I go through? 

There's no one there, I'll miss my flight.

If I go missing from my post, I'll lose my job.

 This photograph has something of the same quality for me.

It is a sequence of images, not just one. It has a quiet drama to it that I find grips me every time I look at it. Oh, and the pelican pole is just off to the left.