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many of his posts tilted like trees tired of the wind; wires sagged,   red rusted, but still jabbed the errant cow   when duty called     three quarters a century he rode the same trail; of late, he had gone afoot, the saddle too heavy for him to heft   walking, he reconnoitered   the tracks with more care--hooves of his myriad steers,   a few equine signs of the farrier’s labor     still  there, fast fading     his boot prints were   more numerous now, and sometimes tamped down by the few beasts left in his herd     across the line lay his dead neighbor’s pastures, peppered with mesquite, pocked by fire ant holes;  no livestock grazed, but the giant turbines whined, white whipsaws slashing not timber, but blue sky     driven by the relentless winds, they called to him, in chanted chorus, issuing a premonition:   one day soon, your fence will fall, and the path you trod will bear no new tracks for other souls to read
0
Apr 24, 2016
Apr 24, 2016 at 10:40 PM UTC
along the fence lines
many of his posts tilted like trees tired of the wind; wires sagged,   red rusted, but still jabbed the errant cow   when duty called     three quarters a century he rode the same trail; of late, he had gone afoot, the saddle too heavy for him to heft   walking, he reconnoitered   the tracks with more care--hooves of his myriad steers,   a few equine signs of the farrier’s labor     still  there, fast fading     his boot prints were   more numerous now, and sometimes tamped down by the few beasts left in his herd     across the line lay his dead neighbor’s pastures, peppered with mesquite, pocked by fire ant holes;  no livestock grazed, but the giant turbines whined, white whipsaws slashing not timber, but blue sky     driven by the relentless winds, they called to him, in chanted chorus, issuing a premonition:   one day soon, your fence will fall, and the path you trod will bear no new tracks for other souls to read
spysgrandson
Written by
American
Apr 24, 2016
Apr 24, 2016 at 10:40 PM UTC
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