Chalk line blue

a poem by Charles Fisher, UK

Chalk line blue,
Marked inches below,
The top ends of the fence slats

The line on the fence, cut!
And preciously,
Shaped into a rolling hillsides;
That gripped her eyes pleased.

The cuttings heads of the fence;
Fell:
Upon the wet ground
The batter-driven -circular saw;
Pressed against the necks of,
The next lines of wooden slats-
The fencemaker continues with his task;
More wooden slats tops fall neat

The circular- saw noise glads,
The invitation of the fence-maker hands-
Handshake,
Shaken!
The newly upright fence slats
Moments ago, those slats,
Lay covered under a black wet proof sheet
Complete and dry;
Waiting patiently become something

(Fenced together as one)

A rolling hill pattern emerges
That wasn't foreseeable, from
The newly created fence;
Sending the slat marked above the,
Blue line chalk top ends towards the damp ground

These slats ends are,
Left on the soggy ground as dead ends,
That shall become useful as ground supports,
For other materials in the garden makeover








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