The Fence
Sun baked boards
Worn wood, ragged
Cracked, dry
Bleached, faded
Knots and holes
Ribs and spines
Like dead bones
Standing against time
Crevices dark
Blackened with grime
Rusty nails protrude
Crooked gate open wide
Vines wrap around
Weeds at the base
A bloom of yellow
Brightens the place
Backyard fence
Reminiscent of life
Tired and beaten
Burdens and strife
What looks wasted
Is not at all
Easily transformed
By Jesus’ call
The Gate is open
Ancient, old
The Way to God
Holy road.
Copyright 2014 Cheryl S Birch
All rights reserved
Cheryl Birch 