She Watches From a Hilltop

She watches from a hilltop
Of thorns, weeds, and rows
Wearing a veil of ivy
Moss is her evening gown
Worn to a moonlit masquerade

She dances with an oak tree
To a breeze along the shore
The music of the night
Plays a symphony until morn
An ancient monument to victory

Subtly overthrown
By undesirable rodents
Who tunnel to her toe
Under the weight of weather
And weakness at her base

She tilts toward the roadside
As the traffic slows
Her graven arms outstretched
Plead for restoration
To indifferent motorists below