The weather in your world is a wonder fence
Trampled upon by your conscience
An army of rebellious corralled sheep
and uprooted from the loose soil by unruly children

The weather in your world is a wonder fence
Painted poorly by the cold wind’s whip
Warped by the secret tears that you weep
While women whisk by but don’t come around
Your wish, no more than their gossipy folly
A word like a whisk beats the yolk of your esteem

and

Through the rickety slats of this peculiar fence
This fence; your particular wonder fence
Is,
just as I have feared……

The picket’s white washed appearance
Wiped clearly away exposing something or other
I hear
The wind whistles a song that softens the landscape’s atmosphere
While women want what women want
and God knows I will never know
What that is my friend so dear
Lord knows I will never know what that is

©2005 J. K. Bradford