Where pavement meets the edge, I stand, A boundary line in concrete's hand. Stopping wheels and feet alike, I brace the road with steadfast might.

You need to get me wet before you start to play, then stroke me in a rhythm any which way. I’m messy and slippery while spinning on the spot, but I get rock hard when things get really hot.

Sometimes used to knock down beasts, a friendly bar game makes use of me. A deer when running hither and tither, a piercing glance, an iron sliver.

Freedom does this. It’s constant in veterans’ ears. The faithful wear it. In sickness and in health throughout the years.

Round I sit, humble in the ground, break through my skin and treasures are found. I bring tears to some, joy to the cook, layer by layer, reveal my hidden look.