orgami's Diaryland Diary

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

21 Speeds

mature hardwood
the lake is far below
we are high
the bike trail muddy
and brown thrown up
by the wheels the joggers
agressive treads

we listen to birdsong
catch out breath
look at the flowers
rising from winters
depth of sleep
the land warmed
by the victorious
sun from the death
of winter

Alive
sluicing tires through
the dark stained mud
flung up on our shorts
and bare legs
our shirts kicked up
by the spinning gear
shifted wheels
light metal alloys
and whir of the
bearings

there are sights to
see as we fly with
hair free
thumping around rocks
and across pallete
bridges through
old feilds gone fallow
and filled with thorn
trees and young pines

I have never felt so
alive
and we return to her
car and eat fresh apples
and a freind of hers
homemade banana bread
and I sit on the doorwell
with my feet out
leaning against the car
seat my arm on the seat
on the passenger side
and she sits in the drivers
side and looks me in the
eyes when I talk
her curls surrounding her
face her smile wonderful

we break the bikes down
and put them up on the racks
swallow the last of our
bottle water and click in
our seatbelts

It feels good to be in a car
again Someone so normal so
long ago Something I had
also taken for granted
Like the freindship of a
good freind

We will do this again
she assures me
(as she loves mountian
biking and is pro)
"I'll get your legs in shape
so you can move on the trails
with ease and you can really
enjoy it" and I believe her
so confident is her voice

(from mountian biking in the
trails recently with my old
mountian bike an amazing
experience Not for the faint
of heart)

1:15 p.m. - 2011-05-11

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

previous - next