A Poem From Yesterday, April 22

White Fences I took the country road today so I could see what April brought of early spring. Also to pass the farm where the caring lady I've never met, only seen, who always had clothes on her lines unless it rained, who kept board fences a quarter mile along both sides of the road behind which cattle grazed. White painted, parallel boards never damaged or discolored. Several times I'd seen her out, retouching the white paint. But when I passed twice last fall, its neat signs cautioning "Animals Crossing -Take Care" (most often wild turkeys or squirrels not cows), there were no clothes drying nor any cows so I wondered if the lady I never knew had moved or passed away. Today, this early spring day, not only were no clothes drying, board fences were sagging, boards broken, paint peeling. This made it clear why she'd cared for them every year. Now I'll never meet this caring lady I don't know. I hope she doesn't know how badly those sad, sad boards need care — there's hope however, for on one end, a few new unpainted boards, already nailed in place..