Road-Side Finds

Yellow beams
Towards the light
Dressed in green and bathed in rain
It lives in relevé
The opening act to the cynical
The main event to the pure
It sways and pivots
At the wake of day
And the mellow of night
On a stage, it is planted
In the middle of the jungle 
Metallic monsters roam and trash is thrown at curtain call
Fumes, dirt, and soot for air
A hard home compared to the others
Worrying not, it leans into the source, which nourishes it to bloom
And bloom, it does

Through noisy mornings and feverish evenings
No matter the passerby that tramples on its head
Nor the rotting fields or heavy winds
And never mind man’s brute
It thinks it better to be free among the dust
Than to be plucked and placed on the tabletop
Like the sun, it burns and moves and spreads its hands
Until it is wildfire, birthing others alike
Its face a light to the ash around it
Its song a melody to the dead
Its life a beacon to the lost

Oh, to be a sunflower on a highway
How many are out there?

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