Spring is rushing ready to crash into the cold.
Just as I am warm to the 20 degree breeze
I feel the sun’s heat on my legs but dred
The choking humidity to come, more sluggish
then the clumps of ice and snow on my feet.
There will be a moment, a few days, when flying over
the road the air feels invisible and every effort a joy
An endless passing not passing of before but now.
The hands get warmer then a beat and I feel the cold again
Just keep going, no one to meet, I can see
the marks left by a tire, not alone, but one of few.
Wind direction picks the days to ride. When its cold enough
to concern ones self with temps too far below freezing.
Some days it’s warmer at night then the morning.
My mind is made up wanting to be the first tracks in the snow.
They are the calmest, smoothest, tire tracks parting the snow
Before the muck and slush, a toll on riders from careless fools.
Yet some days there I am behind a wheel, thoughts whirling
Being on someone’s wheel, then I wouldn’t need such foolishness as gas.
Winters stand will soon be gone, the grit left on the floor a reminder
Swept to the bin on that day in hopes of lasting rain.