The Silver Line
The Silver Line
The silver wire begins to hum,
A narrow path for sparks to run.
It pulls the light from distant hills
To chase the dark from window sills
It binds the fence and keeps the gute,
A thin spun line against the weight
It waves the mesh that try to fall
Through every twist and every bend
It seeks a start and finds an end
A study thread, a metal vine,
Where strength and spirit intertwine.