Road

The young farmer, who had not been to the town before,
had to go there to sell his harvest.
The road was hard, and carved grotesquely by erosion,
which endlessly misguided the wheels of the tiny cart,
threatening to twist them into broken splinters.
The wind was harsh, and bitter, and blew the cart backwards,
even as the hill began to slope upward.
There was a cold, wet spray that was spat from the sky,
and there was only enough time to see that there was no
cover, when the rain fell heavily all around him.
It was then that the young farmer realized that the town
was not, and could not, be there.
He knew then that he had been deceived by rumors,
begun by the hopes of the ignorant.