The Fence Mender
except by the horse tracks behind him
and the sagebrush,
like polka dots on a bed sheet,
stretching to the mountains ahead.
He’s alone but far from lonely
as he rides up through the snow
along a sagging fence line
with the valley down below.
Pausing where the wire is down
this old fence mender looks around
to see if he can find a clue
of just what critter busted through.
But fresh snow…
covers any sort of sign
except those horse tracks back behind.
So he picks up the wire
nails it back in its place
under gray skies that cover
this wide open space.
Then the clouds split apart
by shafts from the sun
as if they’re God’s spotlight
on a job that’s well done.
Boot and horse tracks
melt together as one
and tight wire is all that’s left behind.
Jeff Hildebrandt © 2004
Copyright © Jeff Hildebrandt | Year Posted 2005
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