Grandma's Picket Fence
Thirty feet of white picket fence,
doesn't sound that exciting.
But Oh, to see the blood red blooms,
of a Rambler at one end entwining.
In and out, it weaves its spell,
all but hiding the aged white boards.
The picket fence holds strong and true,
a trellis to the Rose it affords.
At the other end of the yard,
where the fence meets a lamp pole,
stands a lush Butterfly Bush.
Leaning on the pickets as if it were old.
A Lilac so full as to block the light,
draping clusters of flowers like grapes.
For months hiding the fence from our sight,
beneath a butterfly enshrouded cape.
Sunflowers stand tall and proud,
a stone birdbath adds rustic flair.
Against a backdrop of metered white,
vibrant colors scent the air.
The Pear tree adorns the picket fence,
with dappled shade, then Autumn leaves.
While birds alight atop worn points,
eating the ripe sunflower seeds.
Thirty feet of white picket fence,
doesn't sound that exciting.
Until you saw the one in Grandma's yard,
a tranquil scene that was so inviting.
Copyright © Paula Swanson | Year Posted 2011
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