Small by the Roadside

I can stand, small by the roadside.

Or, tall beneath the archway of timber and emerald pine.

Trouble may beset me.

Chase all flaws out onto an unforgiving black top.

Nonetheless, no natural cadence to the man-made road.

Only optimism in the undiscovered broken bough.

Lyricism in the rusty, discarded plow.



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