The Fence

[Wjames]

I watch the ghosts in the evening haze
along the pasture fence. [b]I agree with some others, I think you could cut one of the "the's". I would cut the first one if I were you.[/b]

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 I like this image, I can see the bark hanging off a broken stick where it snapped looking like skin surrounding a cut.
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." I don't like the enjambment here, I would just have this stanza as two lines.

A breeze swirls the ghosts and haze away
from the glistening taut wire.

This is a really nice, compact poem I think you pulled off very well.