i sat in the morning sun, staring at a road that disappeared over a hill
there were no buildlings visible at the summit to spoil my fancy’s view
but tall trees in full leaf flanked either side of the winding path
if i had time to climb the hill i half expected to find hobbits on the other side
puttering about in their gardens or cooking a hearty second breakfast
of eggs and sausages and mushrooms and tea with a nice pipe afterward
i thought i might glimpse elves lurking in the woods at twilight
when the leaves cast silvery shadows on the grass beneath and cicadas hum
the scent of sun-warmed green life wafting on the breeze
my imagined world was lovely and i could have slipped away
but reality’s roar of traffic reminded me that a highway lay between me
and the byway of my yearnings, which was covered in practical asphalt
and one of the only hobbits for miles around was sitting in a blue car
next to me, wearing brown flipflops and two days worth of stubble
the dunedain had slain all the goblins on the bluffs and departed
i reminded myself that eowyn and aragorn had never married each other
