For sixty seven years he kept
close notes accounting every stone
composing his nine acre wall
dividing him from wider world.

Meticulously, every ledge,
indentation, width and gap,
each hue and height compiled right,
- as graveling as one might find

if auditing his state of mind.
And yet, replying, he would cite
a lack of walls for all the woe
of "evils free to come and go."

"You raise some boundaries, here and there,
and watch: no quandaries to beware,"
he shores his cause, granitic glare,
as birds and leaves take to their air.