Rain
Wednesday a.m.'s second leg of my journey,
From St. Louis to Greencastle, Indiana, was all rainstorm,
A formidable deluge that rendered travel hazardous,
A series of epic challenges made more stressful
By my passing lumbering tractor-trailers
Blasting vast cascades of spray, from their eighteen wheels,
Like cobras spitting venom, blinding my straining eyes,
Paralyzing my will to move ahead,
Threatening to strand me in a saturated, unplanted field.
By the time I arrived, 235 miles later,
My body was weary, my mind groggy, my spirit crotchety,
But I was alive, in a land of farms peat-bog soggy,
Though uncertain why I'd ventured away, strayed so far,
From wherever it was I'd never intended to leave,
Wondering if, indeed, I might not be the rain.
05/15/09
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