Fences

"Well, that's it then," a fence will say.

A top rail weathers and fails following a decade
Of winter after summer;
Chain link is pried from the post
And rolled back
More often
And by more persistent hands
Than those charged with upkeep
And repair.

The very things they keep us from
Betray them:
The angles of the hemmed-in land
And the wind
Channeled over it;
The irresistible value
Of goods, or mystery, or shortcut.

Some fences are laws
And others are suggestions.

We know the difference.

Others are rules put there only to be bent.

The trick Is discerning which to honor;
Which to cautiously pass over, through, or under;
Which to destroy and dismantle
In your passing;
And which to outlast, patiently,
Like the wind.