A country overpass is what he is –
Forgotten, by the side, and overgrown –
The care of lonely travelers is his,
Amid old country ways few left have known
The social fabric of the varied past
Is still a part of who he is today;
As it is, still, for everyone, at last –
But many do not know it, or won’t say
The unremembered road, it sits aside.
Yet still the sunlight falls upon it there;
A way not glamorous, nor very wide,
Among the choking weeds and long-held wear
And he, he must remember in his heart:
Whate’er his limits, he must do
His part
