“The Old Rail Fence”

The old rail fence still winds its way
Along the pasture lot,
A remnant of a bygone day
That Time somehow forgot.

It runs along the wooded hill
Back to a shady stream,
Like something just remembered
That merges from a dream.

Built from the virgin timber
By the Hoosier pioneers;
It stands alone, defiant;
Still challenging the years.

Overgrown by weeds and briars
It is a part of Nature’s plan,
Now neglected and forgotten
By the eyes and hearts of man.

In the drifting days of Winter,
When the sun seems cold and pale,
It provides a perfect cover
For the rabbits and the quail.

I love its rustic beauty
Like a miser loves his gold
For, to me, it tells a story
That never has been told.

How a settler came by wagon
Over troubled frontier trails,
How, with logs, he built his cabin,
How he fenced his land with rails.

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