in the saddle
riding a metal horse
fat tires for hooves
race down the mountain
morning chill, puddles iced
trudge back up
sweating in the afternoon
sun and dust
stop for water
avoid broken bottles
pass up small ditch treasures:
wrench, socket
quarter, pencil
avoid the angry drivers
almost to the stable, final hills
lowest gear and hiss
hiss hiss hiss
a snake wrapped round
the back wheel?
no vipers here
just careless people
and their steel staples
steal the air
dismount and push
push push push
[Earth Day, so I biked to work. 13 miles each way. Beautiful and uneventful until the home stretch. Flat tire. Someone tossed out a big fat
construction staple, and it found its way into my tire.
No irony there on Earth Day!]
Another excellent poem by Don Rearden. Some bicycling magazine needs this!
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