The old stone savage

     The poet wrote to Don Trump: “Something there is that does not love a wall, that sends the frozen ground swell under it, and spills the upper boulders in the sun, and makes gaps even two can pass abreast.”

     But what does the poet mean? The natural world does not love a wall? Then why do people build walls? To divide property, to separate themselves from others? 

     Consider another line about a wall-maker from the Poet. “I see him there bringing a stone grasped firmly by the top in each hand, like an old stone savage armed.”