An interesting sort
Of restriction.
It tempts the eyes,
A vision of the prize
That can be won
By forcing through.
It binds
Yet opens
To the view
The very world
It seeks
To enclose.
The metal crosses
And it double-crosses,
Inert,
Scraping lines in the sand
Where the marvelous hand
Of creation
Left nothing
But dirt.
Mocked are we
As Arachne weaves
Her most enthralling art
Amidst the latticework
Meant to hold back.
And the verdant vines,
Offset by gray metal,
Entwined with the barrier,
Wiggle with laughter
As the breeze flouts
The limits imposed.
The wise sparrows rest
On their new perch
And wonder at the bounds
Of human ingenuity.