Though their clothes are soaked,
 
the fence builders keep working
 
in the freezing rain.

 
 
 

Autumn afternoon—
 
my neighbor’s cigarette smoke
 
drifts across my fence.

 
 
 

Summer afternoon—
 
on a weathered wooden fence
 
a dove leaves its song.

 
 
 

the soothing music
 
of wind chimes beyond my fence
 
and a barking dog

 
 
 

A crack in the fence—
 
I can see the grass has died
 
in my neighbor’s yard.

 
 
 

A new month unfurls,
 
but no new morning glories
 
unfurl on my fence.

 
 
 

While painting the fence,
 
I hear some children laughing
 
on the other side.

 
 
 

On a sagging fence
 
a dove calls out a greeting
 
to the morning light.

 
 
 

Defying winter,
 
the sunflowers keep blooming
 
near my backyard fence.

 
 
 

Near the Baptist church
 
a thousand morning glories
 
glorify a fence.