#49322

This wall,
this Fence,
and barbed-wire;
May keep me contained,
but my eyes can wander
way beyond
any fortress.

The sun escapes
the sky, and dips
behind the trees.
Pickup-trucks
and peacocks
catch what light
can fight through leaves.
I can only see them
against the hand of god,
which stretches out to me
In a pantomime of
violets, yellows, and blues.

This wall,
this Fence,
and barbed-wire;
May keep me contained,
but, my hope and
my imagination
cannot be restricted
by the thin window
of a cell.

PD

stumpedwise.

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