Road Restrictions

The beaten track lies cold and still

It does not turn, nor does it split

But lies there straight and far

Into the distance


A passing bird will oft look down,

To change direction as it notes

the thin black line that is the track

Which ever points to  north.


One doesn’t waiver

When following this path,

For there is no thing that could miss

This cutting of the natural ‘scape


Yet oh! How it longs

To twist and split, to follow east –

To turn upon itself in bliss

Tying unwary travellers in knots


Feel it tremble ‘neath your feet,

As it awaits the words that set it free

An airy whisper, that is all

But what wondrous, glorious motions will be unleashed!


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