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.
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| 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.
