Friday, June 4, 2010

the fence

The fence is falling over.

I can see it from the car. It pouts like a protruding lower lip, as if any moment it will be overcome, and collapse onto the grass.

Around the site of bending the treated pine is tinged green, weakened by relentless moisture. I wonder if it has played host to ivy, and whether its removal marks the final straw.

Once we cut some ivy from our side fence, and woke next morning to find it prostrate on the ground, with our neighbour standing over it. She was none too pleased with our rigourous pruning, and refused to pay her portion for a new one.

This one is putting up greater resistence.

Children swarm into the park for the weekend, reinvigorated by the school bell. The limping fence invites their attention, daring them to lean upon its imperfection, to peer at the contents of the yard beyond.

But not today.

The weekend summons forcefully, and they do not consider its plight. Come Monday, when freedom seems a world away, their attention may be tweaked. A challenge set.

Perhaps by then a hefty rain shower will have settled the matter.

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Wisteria Awakening
Wintery Words

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