The Fence

[ajcohen613]

I watch the ghosts in the evening haze
along the pasture fence.
We built that fence fifty years ago,
my back wet from driving pick and shovel,
placing the posts exactly where Grandfather pointed.
My aching fingers like broken sticks
from stretching barbed wire in perfect lines
on posts flawlessly spaced.
He towered above me.
"Build it well," he said,
"and it will last longer than we will."
A breeze swirls the ghosts and haze away
from the glistening taut wire.
These last two stanzas seem like the two you should be working with. The idea that the fence will survive longer than you/he will is a cool idea that allows you plenty of space. If you can experiment with ways to illustrate the effects/affects of time more productively in this poem, which seems like one of the central topics here, it could become something quite good. Maybe quoting your grandfather isn't the best idea; you might want to make the long-lasting aspect of the fence more strong by showing, not telling. Cheers.