Reached a fork in the road
and went left
instead of right
The left-hand path leads to my family
The right-hand path leads to the wilderness
Riding my bike is a ritual
in the summertime.
I listen to symphony music
while I follow the sun.
When I got home, my parents were coming back from the doctor
and I heard their medical report
“We aren’t spring chickens, anymore.”
This is not as bad as their life advice
that turns like a record… and repeats itself.
It got late into the evening
and I had to ride 20 miles home.
“Do you want a ride?” My dad asked.
“No.”
I stared at the sky full of Poseidon’s spears
clouds
shooting across the pink sky.
I passed the construction site
where they raped the river
to build apartment homes
Two trees
stand alone
like they are talking to each other
It’s the most unnatural thing
for these trees to be alone
standing as they do
Separated
from the forest
that surrounded them.
Anybody
knows
the time is coming
when they will be cut down,
but until then
I stare at them, where the machines have grabbed their trunks
and wounded their bark.
The river is full of
strange stilts
Some horrible public project
It has become dark
and the insects are getting inside my eyes
the light on my bike
shines
on a world that only comes out at night.
Eventually, I get back
thankful
I rode home
alone.
Biking allows one to travel at a pace that is conducive to reflecting.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Biking and Walking! 🙂
LikeLiked by 1 person
Great narrative. Compelling.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thanks, threadbee!!!
LikeLike
I love this piece! 💜
LikeLiked by 1 person
So glad, butungislayp!!!
LikeLiked by 1 person
Love and light 💜
LikeLiked by 1 person