clarion call

The days were long,
smelling of blueberry scones,
pining for bluebird sightings.

A pileated woodpecker
kept time as, chapter by verse,
I journeyed otherwhere--

Nights were longer,
wrestling dragons for first--
only to lie with you.

Had I numbered all the trees,
draped a quilt on every fence,
I still would not find my way back.

photo by Marian Kent

Mary asked the Real Toads to write about fences, and include a photo, if possible. I took this photo years ago. This poem is my response upon seeing the photo again after all these years.