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 farfetched does it seem, so farflung from the hedge

under which we now sit down to parley.