It all depends, the farmer said,
on how high the fence and wide the gap.
How tall is just enough to push thoughts out
or hold emotions in, and had I thought of life
enriched by feelings? Is the gap a full on
crop of breaks, or something less,
some oddly chronic stutter of connection,
fluorescence hindered by its oozing ballast.
Can we glue chain split apart, or pickets
freed by loose, bent nails?
It all depends, the farmer said, on how we view
the things that we might do for love.
Day 20. The prompt from NaPoWriMo Day 19. To write a didactic poem, instructional. No restraints.