Something There Is (or The Mending Wall)

After Frost, the poet, not weather, I


built a circle wall, or rather spiral


all to come to mend, wall, themselves to walk


both sides and agree it makes good neighbors.


 


Something there is that loves a wall to mend,


repair the mind and soul gentle grayworn


farm field stone plucked to define god for


us all as ‘mine.’


 


Come take down and build up: stone, man, this wall


to mend- not broken, but not at all.


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