Obtuse Traditionalism

There is something huge living
under my tool shed.
Flattened down grass precedes
a cavern like entrance.
No sightings yet although
my neighbor has seen the bushes move.
His vigilance is encouraging
and the motion detector I had installed.
We may have pictures soon
to inundate the internet. Speaking
into a microphone, of course.
The entrance gives off an odor of musk
some gland or fistula gone rampant.
It keeps the curious away
who pester in theoretical camouflage.
An expert has predicted a sinkhole down there
that ancient river running beneath all of us.
Her idea is to descend
when stability is finally confirmed,
and facilitate an historical provenance.

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