wet

the journey..the actual..began on sunday..the 18th..
the rains began tenderly that dies solis..
~ no sun that day ~
seattle was in a spit, the drizzle - drazzle..
the gloaming was om-ing into the wet..

monday..the windshield wipers hit their max..
they never looked back;
looking forward was squint from the get-go..

re-reading the hobbit -
it seemed as though we were on the Edge of the Wild..
the days held no light, the sky hit the ground running..
mila and i were goblined up into the storm's wet mouth..
the breath, the wind was musty fusty ..
the only way 'round was through..

we scaled great heights over passes,
descending deep, deep into valleys below..
the roadways were soaked, sopping..
we skim-boarded slickery, fish-tailing swish slosh froth
the waters crashed into our windshield..
there was no seeing..

my eyes were popping..much like gollum's ~
fingers gripping the steering wheel white
the scene was grim, the light was dim..
singing every inch of the hiway

roads go ever on and on,
over rock and under tree,
by caves where never sun has shone,
by streams that never find the sea;
over snow by winter sown,
and through the merry flowers of june,
over grass and over stone,
and under mountains in the moon.

roads go ever on and on
under cloud and under sea,
yet feet that wandering have gone
turn at last to home afar.
eyes that fire and sword have seen
and horror in the halls of stone
look at last on meadows green
and trees and hills they long have known.
          ~bilbo baggins

at arbuckle, the wipers were still..
blue..what is that?
light..how does it shine?
warmth..is that true?

thanks-giving