There is beauty alongside US Route 20 by Hannah Brooks

which is hard to believe,
with the Burger King Drive-Thru across the street
and the 18-wheelers whizzing by
and the frequent impossibility of crossing the road.
But somehow,
in this town whose main export is commuters fleeing to somewhere
bigger and
better or else
smaller and
sweeter,
there are moments
(spent sitting on concrete stoops)
when the breeze is just so
and the sunlight strikes through the trees,
daring you to even consider its absence,
and the people who were once strangers are growing to be something a bit warmer. 
There are gazebos tucked behind gas stations
and flowers,
blindingly blue,
breaking through sidewalk cracks
and the sort of indulgent laughs and internal smiles you
keep just for yourself,
like the memories of an old friend,
that come from walking next to a highway
and choosing to focus instead
on the small meadow in between the guardrails.
And the horns blare, surely they do.
But the birds don’t stop singing for a moment,
the wonders,
so neither do I.