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Finally posted the poem from Sunday, so here it is for you. The prompt on Poetic Asides was to write about a landmark [and Robert Lee Brewer’s is rather amusing]. Mine’s a bit mushy, and I can’t share a pic since it doesn’t really exist anymore, but it is the landmark that stuck in my head, so:

It’s not there anymore,
but I still look anyway.
When I was young, it marked
the line between our town
and the next one on the
unremarkable interstate.

In the middle of the median
grew one leftover tree.
It mysteriously changed
with the seasons and we
eagerly waited to see what
its new blooms would be.

In Spring sprouted eggs,
and flowers for mom.
Summer saw ties in June,
and plenty of red, white and blue.
As leaves fell in Autumn,
our tree grew things like
chalkboards and apples
and of course, jack-o’lanterns.

Some secretive samaritan
snuck onto the median
to bring joy,
smiles and thoughts
to anyone who happened
to drive by and look.
It became a tradition
for thousands of strangers
who grew to expect a tree
bearing maize and other gifts.

Traffic may have been lighter then,
but still, cars sped past in the dark
as stockings and baubles
were hung there with care.
And then one day,
it stopped.

Progress set in, or Time.
The highway has grown and
eaten the median
and a tree could not grow
there anymore, even if those
hands were still here to tend.

Tradition and sentiment
hung hopes and hearts
on another small tree,
on another road,
off the highway
(and in close proximity to the mall)
so seasonal shoppers
can still see the glitter
and new eyes will wonder
who watches over that tree.

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