because it’s a secret your heart admires.
At the top of the ridge, it will hold you to it,
show you your heart’s desire, even though the skies
are laden with dark clouds, and the trees
gossip about the upcoming storm.
Hog wire fence tipped with strands
of barbwire dazzled with rain
is for sheep, or horses, not for cattle
who will push their way through it.
But the wires play an atonal melody
with the aeolian wind.
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