Rural roads in many states are either made of dirt or some grade of gravel. They require one’s utmost attention when being traversed and in these areas, one considers themselves fortunate if they happen to live along a rare ‘hard road.’
The Hard Road
Up on the hard road that crosses county line,
out where the hills turn to sand,
the wind whistles eerily all through the pine
up on the hard road that crosses county line.
Drifts of sand are left behind
as the wind blows mightily ‘cross the land
Up on the hard road that crosses county line
Out where the hills turn to sand.
The Poet's Crafts 
Again, this is an effective poem. Its descriptions, its music, the song quality it has all work wonderfully together.
I like simplicity in its complexity. This short form of poetry challenges me and I’m not yet winning but I’m having fun trying. Your comments are very rewarding and I appreciate them. Your poem ‘First Laugh’ is something like I would like to have written. I look forward to reading more of your work. thanks.
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