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| Biking Poems
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Bike Poem
for the friend who saidIt's not hard work, just swing a leg over the top tube, slip your feet in the toe clips, head out Seminole Highway past the trophy homes, tennis courts, pools, past farms and small towns (two bars, a park, sometimes a grocery store), tractors chugging along, hawks overhead, possums and coons in the cornfields, a deer dead on the shoulder, the black-and-white smell of manure-- keeping a sharp eye for potholes, reading the wind in the grasses, judging when to gear down, pumping, gaining the summit, stretching out for the downhill run, the roadside a royal blur of violets and dandelions-- not thinking much for thousands of miles over the past nine years, all the time I've written poems and never a biking verse because it's nothing remarkable, just what I do, like seeing, like being, like breath. |
