Friday, December 12, 2008

Poem: The Wall

The Wall

The wall winds around the garden,
serpentine, writhing like a snake,
or river, alive somehow,
despite the ancient brick,
hundreds of years old,
that were used to build it.

For those who wish
to find their way to the garden,
it is not difficult, for
the wall is not high,
and there are no gates,
but broad openings,
so you may walk in,
if you are willing.


The picture was taken at Poplar Forest, Thomas Jefferson's "other" home in Forest, Virginia. You can click on it for a larger version.


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