As I sit under a wrinkled old tree to rest,
my gaze catches on the industrial silver of a fence.
Taking a closer look I stumble upon an epic battle between
vine and fence- nature and man- both tryin' to be the best.
The vine- green and growing- reaching for the sun
the fence- cold and dead- bowing to no one,
both battle for domination, one stoic, one tenacious,
vine and fence, players, mere pawns, in a battle never done.
The fence, stained with green, with links all marred.
The vine, battered and brown, with lean body scarred.
Through the test of time the fence stands strong, the vine
twists and turns, as the two fight long and hard.
Silently rooting for nature's warrior and hero,
I stand affixed watching as nature attempts to overthrow
the intrusion of man and his silver fence,
continuing to strive, to triumph, to grow.
As I continue my journey, passing by
the fence and the vine, I let out a sigh.
Suddenly my heart is filled with hope for
I know nature continues to grow, always reaching for the sky.