A Cleared Path

A dried tumbleweed branch had tangled itself against the rusted base of an old steel marker. I surveyed the tangle in silence, measuring the brittle thorns. Planting one boot firmly into the gravel, I reached out with my left hand and took hold of the main stem. A steady pull snapped the dried fibers cleanly away. The iron plaque beneath is now bare to the dust once more. A silent outpost, unburdened.