Mending

We might have to work all day

to mend what’s broken –

– perhaps even longer

 

The oak that crushed my

grandma’s fence fell unbidden,

plunging from the heights like

words cascade from lips to

splinter the fragile boundaries

of our hearts

 

No one meant them, but

the damage has been done,

and now our posts need

new cement –

– yours and mine

 

We’ll have to spread it gently,

then hold quite still

side by side till it dries –

– as long as that may take

 

Your heart, my friend,

is worth the wait

 

Gram writes that her fence is

mended once again, made

“whole and beautiful” by

the careful work of men

 

Come now, will you

stoop down and

lend me your hand

so ours might begin?

Rennes, France

May 20, 2020