While Trespassing I Note the Sadness of Old Fences
I write poems when I can,
in late morning or during
the afternoon, between chores
but before dinner. And sometimes
I duck through spaces
void of wire barbs, and consider
how to fill the incomplete, which words,
what materials could repair
those particular holes. I cut my own
fence once, to access our house
when the creek flooded the road,
lugging uphill through the snake
grass a jug of scotch, my mandolin
and a watermelon, essentials for a weekend’s
respite. To be truthful I cut only the lowest
strand, to help the dog get through — I
was able to climb over, but he couldn’t dig
through the limestone rubble to wriggle
under, and we’d come too far
to simply turn around.
* * *
This appeared in riverSedge, Volume 29, Issue 1, released in October 2016. I first encountered riverSedge in 1983, and vowed that one day my poetry would be published in this journal. It took a while…
O at the Edges 
Reblogged this on crjen1958.
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Thanks for reblogging!
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You be welcome!
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I love this.
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There was a baguette, too, but somehow it didn’t work its way into the poem. 🙂
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I understand. Poetic license, and all that.
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There’s the truth of life, and there’s the truth of the poem!
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Or even of the narrative. When I read something I’ve written aloud to my audience of one (Studly) he’ll say, “That’s not what happened!” To which I respond, “Prove it!”
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I’ll have to tuck away that response for a special moment. 😁
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An interesting perspective for the guy who repairs the fences.
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Which, of course, was me. Ha!
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Such a great title…I have real title envy now…and it’s all your fault.
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Ha! Thank you, Joan.
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We have a similar writing schedule. i can’t recall ever writing at night or evening time.
& a jug of scotch?
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Circumstances have dictated my schedule, but these days I write during the day. The scotch was a gift to my wife from a co-worker. It was indeed a jug.
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Solar powered.
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Of course!
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Such nice write up
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Thanks very much!
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Worth waiting for
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Time just flashes by…
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🙂
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