Fence Pull
April is the greenest month
in close cupped hills holding the John Day river
No wonder the wilderness area is called Spring Basin.
They said is was bare dirt up here when
cattle ran, but after ten years bunchgrass
is knee high, nestling lilies.
We are here to undo our scarring of the land,
with stake puller, wire cutters and pliers
we follow each other up the ridge, each with a job,
first cutting the twisted spacers holding the strands apart
then unbending the clips attaching wire to post, then levering
the stake, and finally rolling the wire into tidy wreaths of metal thorns.
The debris is left in piles, location saved
by GPS for future removal.
The work is hard on our slack city muscles,
and we nod to the grit of previous cowboys
determined to disect undulating geography
into squares of forage.
But when we remove the mile of fence
and hike the distance back
its huge absence
takes our breath away.
4/27/10
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