If That Fence Could Talk
By: Tom Wright
8/10/98
I meandered miles but did not tire,
from Cedar rails I've been made.
I came through clay, sand and mire,
through summer heat and shade.
My purpose here, not keep things in,
or keep some things without.
Quick glances back to where I've been,
can surely leave little doubt.
Young Robins may rest upon my rails,
while learning how to fly.
And I'm often visited by Scissortails,
if they should pass me by.
On lush green carpet I firmly stand,
making my owner so proud.
With post hole digger firm in hand,
he knows God has endowed.
For years this bond we have shared,
with yearly expansion you see.
From a stand of Cedar I was pared,
starting as a red Cedar tree.
If viewed afar when green the land,
I run, appearing not to stop.
I'm as strokes from a painter's hand,
with a snowy peaks backdrop.
As days sun sets and the hour is late,
I hope your eyes are seeing.
That for merely a place to hang a gate,
is not my reason for being.
This fence is located in Idaho's Saw tooth Mountains.
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