I usually don’t publish poems in The Fence Post unless they are written by one of our columnists. The reason for that is because I would be inundated with poetry if I did.

But I received a poem — from my now favorite poet — the other day that I have to run in this week’s edition. Once you’ve read it you will see why it had to appear in my Editor’s Note, or somewhere in the magazine.

The poem was written by Donald Ochs of Hotchkiss, Colo., and I’m sure our columnists will appreciate it as much as I did.

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To The Post … With Love

Just renewed my subscription so now I’ll get the Post

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Didn’t get it read last week … missed what I like most.

Those pretty girls on staff, their pictures look just swell

Getting a hug from each of them would really ring my bell.

Hey fella Pitts, he’s been around a while

His writin’s good, I really like his style.

The ole Beekeeper, I miss him so, a gentleman he bee,

Keepin’ the seasons, one by one, his logic made sense to me.

Mad Jack keeps his profile low, still he’s on the scene

He’s lost in the past, and that’s okay, this isn’t meant to be mean.

I’d like to meet this fellow Yield, I’d like to shake his hand

He’d give me a name, off the top, it surely would be grand.

I dare not opine on the ladies work, trouble would likely come

We’ll just say, let it go, on them I’ll just stay mum.

Last of all, that rascal Black, he likes to spin a tail

Truth gets stretched, words get bent, like a hammer missing a nail. ❖