Just before golden hour
Our bikes greet the path,
Tires hugging gravel, leaves,
We barrel deeper into trees
The stifling heat of summer
Has finally (finally!) surrendered
Waving its white flag in
Fall’s gentle breeze
We feel this new chill up
Our sleeves and down our
Backs as our legs rotate
Around and around and…
…Around bend after bend,
Motion that has been second
Nature for all of the years
Since we first learned to ride
Still, we feel we are not so
Different from the people
Who nervously mounted
Their first bikes.
The trail winds along,
Through thick woods full
To bursting with life—
I imagine it’s a hospitable home
For the squirrels scurrying
From branch to branch in
Search of dinner, the little
Bird flitting low to the ground
Round a corner, a break in trees
Reveals sun-soaked glory,
Bluest blue skies and
warm honey swaying fields
Farther along, we come
To an old railroad bridge
Kindly granting us safe passage
Over muddy Hinkson Creek
The strong arms of the bridge
A tangle of rust metal and
Stubborn vine. Where does
One begin and the other end?
We’re moving fast, but my
Mind is slowed, comforted
By familiar landscapes,
Miraculous as the season turns
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