The Fence
The fence has no paint, worn
from time and weather, broken
from accumulated weakness, grey
with age, a reminder
that change is slow, yet constant
and that we have a choice
of whether to let it in through the gate,
or let it slowly break us
into dust.
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Lots of change going on in my life these days, and thinking about it spawned this poem. The picture was taken in Wells, VT. You can click on it for a larger version.
Tom
3 comments:
wow...dear Tom, it is incredible the way your write that makes us think in our lives and in the world. I hope you are having changes that will let you stronger and wiser.Anyway, changes exists to make us sronger, otherwise the difficulties will repeat and repeat. When we let the changes happen, when we cross the fence..then we are another...
Blessings to you,
Best wishes,
Rosana
very nice. reminds me of something i read the other day that said we can either let our circumstances mold us or we can mold our circumstances. i guess one thing we can be sure of is that there will always be change.
I find my fence needing a bit of paint these days.
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