The Winding Northward Road

by Rambling Writer

Day 54

Trusting my sense of distance again. The Sierra Neighvada’s as much closer as I thought it would be, although Los Ambeles doesn’t really look all that further away. Must just be that dang huge.

Another uneventful day, unfortunately. Been following a river towards the mountains (ought to get there in a day or so). Just noticed how much warmer it’s been getting; feels more like home. Not sure what else to talk about; land’s nothing I haven’t seen before.

Not much happened today

As I set out on my own way

On the route to home.

But I cannot moan;

It’s my own fault, I say.

This trip was my own idea.

I knew this kind of thing would happen

I left without any plan

Of where to go in the land.

My course is sufficient,

But quite inefficient,

Though the traveling I can withstand.

It’s not like I am helpless;

That falsehood, I must redress.

Although I will admit,

I’ve wanted to quit

A few times, right after a mess.

I’ve gone through valley and station.

I even once left the nation!

It wasn’t that hard.

But stay out of the yard

Of hermits; they’ll cause much frustration.

This boredom’s a small little thing

As I make an enormous ring

Of all of Equestria.

Of all of the country.

I’ve met all the sundry

Ponies of strength, horn, and wing.

I think of nothing to compare

At home, nothing compares

To what I have seen way out there.

Of those things, I think

As I kneel down and drink

From this river in evening’s glare.

And now, here comes the night.

It’s chilly, but it doesn’t bite.

It feels more like home

Then wherever I’ve roamed.

But I’m not yet at home. Not quite.