loading . . . Ode to My New Fence by Cecil Morris Seven-foot high redwood, board-on-board, the usual gaps overlapped, every view blocked by new wood gloriously bright in shades of red and blond, the fine fur of splinters waiting on ungloved hands, for skin as bare as the boards and ready, the gentle open arcs of rings, giant fingerprints fragmented, divided, and the knots, the hundred dark eyes of nature still solid, tight, … http://januaryhouselit.com/2025/10/17/ode-to-my-new-fence/