WHITETHORNS
The paling posts we would tap into the ground with the flat of a spade
more than thirty years ago,
hammering them home then with a sledge
and stringing them with wire to keep our oats from Miller’s barley,
are maxed out, multilayered whitethorns, affording us a broader, deeper shade
than we ever decently hoped to know,
so far-fetched does it seem, so far-flung from the hedge
under which we now sit down to parley.
— Paul Muldoon, Moy Sand and Gravel, 2002
Thursday, May 10, 2007
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