Fence Lines

A dispute with my neighbor regarding a fence;
very clear in my eyes that he had no defense.
A surveyor determined the property line,
and his fence stood on property legally mine.

There were waves of contention on Mulberry Lane;
as the sun showed his face I felt there was hard rain.
Neighbor Joe made a face when I told him the facts;
dirty looks from his countenance felt like attacks.

Though I told him so nicely what surveyor said,
he turned very abruptly while shaking his head.
Then I knocked on his door with abundance of bold,
but the, Go away, behind the door sounded cold.

What’s the balance between being nice and one’s rights?
Should one slink meekly off or risk contentious fights?
We share space on this planet so love should prevail;
yet dispute is a battleship ready to sail.

There were cold shoulders, evil eyes, sneering extant;
dispute grew into impasse with hope on a slant.
Then when all seemed so lost a suggestion arose
that brought everyone face to face with downturned nose.

We became friends with those who had given us grief;
neighborhood camaraderie was a relief.
We were glad for a smile instead of a frown,
and united in love when we took the fence down.


24 Lines
Writer’s Cramp Winner
9-29-19