Mending the Fence

We are mending the fence
in the rain, mending the gaps
where the cows push through
into the neighbour's paddock.
Udders aching they breach
the wire to reach their bull calves
corralled in holding pens, waiting
for the truck that will take them
to the sale yard.

Two women, a coil of wire,
hammer and fencing pliers,
we shelter under camphor laurels'
dripping arms and try to mend
the gaps of years: working out
where boundaries lie and where
barriers are slack enough
for us to push through barbs
and bond again.