Stone Wall in the Woods

A waist-high wall of greyish green

lichen-stained stones appears as

I walk in deep woods. Flat slabs

of shale, placed in orderly rows,

wind half a mile next to towering

maples then stones fall into disarray.

I admire the artistry and wonder

about the wall’s strange location.

My  forefathers crowbarred these

stones from glaciated fields;

strained as they piled them on a

cumbersome wooden sled hauled

a mile or more by dapple greys.

Plenty of rocks on this farm—

cheaper than barbed wire—horse

and human sweat the only cost.

And why this wall in the woods?

Maybe a century ago cattle

grazed here or the stones set

a boundary keeping neighbor’s

cows out. My fingers caress the

carefully placed slabs that callused

hands put here with no thought of

folk art.              

                                                Norma Wightman

Inspired by visits to the farm in Sullivan County, New York, where I grew up.