I can’t love a wall

that settles down along hardened ground

and hot to touch in the sun.


Yet the wind’s work I can see

the space, passes, beyond repair

and where a rapant dog moved through

leaving by its tiny hair,

I’ll mend and watch the sun smile

as it pours itself on the boards

so they sag again under weight

from press of the wind’s cords-

(Frost would be apalled)

So,  I’ll turn my back

and ignore my outside game

and leave it late until the spring

until the earth is far more tame.

How I hate the fence.


15 Oct 08

Collection: Natural Laws

Dave Barber