Road Incantations 5

Too tired for it, down the dark ways I struggled with the hills.  On Calavaras and the freeway I was silent.  This road was change and few held any power over it. Weak I would have been subsumed and altered so I took no part.  I was heading for the small old roads the valley forgot.  A Ferry Morse was a fragment few knew bore down to our roots.  Born with the past valley before Shockley and Noyce; the hearts delight of old.  Much rested on five hundred feet of road.

I could smell spring bloom up nearing, it was well.  I stopped in some business park and waited, windows down alive with sound.  I hated getting out for my weight.  I am fat, not fat like you may be , fat that spoken of serious problems rooting around the soul.  Most of us were broken, few found the art of the road without flaw or need.