Old Wire

By Helen Harrington

A circle of rusty wire
rolled up and left leaning
against a post
in an old fence row
catches and holds the eye
better than a new spool
would do.

It is brittle,
not bright or tidy,
not able to last for years,
but it has character
and tells a tale–
about cattle pressing against it,
reaching for greener grasses,
about hands hardened
and scarred
by its barbs and twists . . .
It reminds me
of the old farmer somewhere,
who handled it,
and was changed
by life
and labor, to living.