Trope

The rust on the beige cylinder
Of the power-line transformer

Matches the ochre-buff sandstone
Of the sheer cliff-face behind it.

You may be glad no one has scratched
Any messages on the cliff—

No pictographs, no epigraphs
Glorifying a long-dead king.

The patterns are just rock varnish,
Which is why the rust splotches match

Well enough to vanish. What has
Only random pattern to say

Remains a fine poem anyway.
The transformer metaphor stays.