Poetry – While Trespassing I Note the Sadness of Old Fences

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 […]

via While Trespassing I Note the Sadness of Old Fences — O at the Edges

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