DestroyingIsis

Rotted wood that stands six feet high guards me from the dangers of society. The line of gaps between the planks has been visible since before I can recall. But still the old and decrepit timber pieces stand the test of time. Lasting through storms that tore shingles off the roof and branches from their trees. Birds rest upon these wooden barriers and chipmunks run across to freedom. Against my liking termites call the wood home.