what the camera couldn’t capture:
the red circle of sun just after dawn
rising above the soldiers of the night
the road with fewer than two hands’
worth of cars zipping past me
Riona proclaiming, “It wasn’t me”
though no one else is around
the creek bed lush with shadow
and peace on this early morning ride
the heat that seeps from all corners
of the earth, emanating into our souls
the birdlike chirps of three little girls
as they open their cards from Grandma
the tender bite of medium rare steak
for a special dinner for the five of us
the rare afternoon nap under the fan
of the climate-controlled house
the white half circle of moon just after dusk,
rising above the guardians of the day.
exercise
My New Kentucky Home
This isn’t what I expected.
I imagined intolerable heat
(and it can be)
flat, muggified air
(sometimes it is)
and having to drive 55 miles
to get anywhere decent
(sometimes i just ride the bike instead).
Yes, it is what I expected.
But I didn’t know about
the rolling country roads
(an endless bike trail),
the diversified forests with
trees as gigantic as the
skyscrapers I’m accustomed to,
rivers and lakes and streams
around every corner that bear
bath-warm water to swim in
morning, noon, and night,
bridges that span the lakes,
rivers, and streams in a
magnificent rainbow of
mile-long architectural beauty,
state parks that have no entrance
fees, free hot working showers,
even swimming pools, hotels,
and golf courses, with grounds
maintained as impeccably as
upscale resorts, humidity that
allows me to breathe easier,
pedal faster, and keep my
contacts in all day long,
and
love for my new Kentucky home.
Call the Landlord and Pray
How to cope with a broken water heater
in a house with eight sweaty people:
one—swim in the backyard blowup pool
two—wash laundry in cold water
three—debate about the causes
four—boil water on the stove
five—ride your bike in 90/90
(degrees/humidity) for fifteen miles
and enjoy the sluice of ice cold water
that will wash away all your frustration
with the sweat that swirls down the drain.
Six—call the landlord and pray
(we are in Kentucky after all).
Hugging the White Line
on the road she told me not to take
i hug the white line
in a race against the sunset,
not used to the countryside
with its erratic traffic,
endless cornfields dotted
with day lilies as red-orange
as the sun behind me,
hills that curve and roll into
each other like waves of
rural nonchalance, and its
dangerous lack of streetlights.
with tunes popped in and
the golden glow of a busy day’s end
pushing me home, i beat
my average speed, sweat
dripping down me with as many
torrents as the rainfall that
left me drenched yesterday,
and I come into town, settle the
bike into place on the porch,
grinning at the silence of the
usually-loud streetlight across
the street, still dark in these last
few moments of light, basking in
these last few moments of the race I’ve won.
The Vittetoe Express
It’s June first (my mother’s birthday)
ninety degrees with a slight breeze
that makes this uphill ride tolerable,
and as I pedal along I catch sight of
our illustrious three-tiered shadow.
First me, silver helmet casting sparkles
against the cracked black pavement,
then Mythili on the tag-along, her frilly
dress flowing behind her seat like a
butterfly waiting to escape the heat,
and then the round caboose of the trailer
with Riona singing Christmas songs as I
shout, “Pedal!” when we come to the
bottom of another glorious hill.
Before we’ve even made it to the park
(the one with two playgrounds, a creek
where Elizabeth fetched the girls’ pollywogs,
a Frisbee golf course and exercise equipment),
we have turned every driver and pedestrian
with gaping rubbernecks bent in our direction, and
I have thought of a name for this silhouette of
bikes daisy-chained to one another in harmony:
The Vittetoe Express, a perfect train of thought,
a perfect train of happiness on this
perfect Kentucky summer day.
Find What’s Inside You
find what’s inside you to get you there
a song, a thought, a love, a prayer
it could be anything to keep you going
hiding in your legs without you knowing
find what’s inside you to get you there
find the inner strength you thought was rare
because once you delve in there’s no stopping
the courage it takes to keep you from dropping
find what’s inside you to get you there
the place in your soul without compare
you won’t regret this ache, this choice
that answers to your inner voice.
Ode to Colorado
Only here will I worry
about traffic jams along the bike path,
runners and bikers decked out
in garishly bright bodysuits
speeding double file
in a race to beat their average
so early on a Saturday morning
Only here will the wind whip up
a thunderstorm that creeps in from
the mountains every afternoon,
sneaking out after torrents
that the dry steppe soaks up
with its thirst for rain
so early in the year’s seasons.
Only here will fourteen miles
vary from century-old Victorians,
to modern multiplexes,
to simple suburban trilevels
tucked amongst the creek that
brought us all here, that connects us
so early in the life of Colorado.
Only here will I raise my girls,
stake my claim, teach my kids
that the beauty surrounding us all
lies within the pedals, the pounding feet,
the mountains bearing weather,
the creek bearing gold, the architecture
that keeps us here, brings us here,
so early in the life of our love.
Ten Million Shades of Green
for less than you paid for the
plastic tarp that covers the addition
you’re attaching to your
6,000-square-foot, $10 million home,
we enjoyed the same priceless views
a sky as blue as God’s eyes
with puffy white clouds dancing
in front of distant snowcapped peaks,
the green hills and weeping willows
decorating the winding, perfectly flat path,
the ponds with cattails, the canal,
the endless crabapples dressed in
pink and white flowers for spring,
the sprouting green bushes,
your gorgeously manicured yards,
green grasses galore,
green buds of leaves popping
out on trees as tall as back east.
your green may have seven figures,
but mine has ten million shades,
strength in my calves,
a content-with-books-to-read-in-the-trailer
oldest daughter,
and priceless views
that I didn’t pay a penny for.
My Inner Voice
someone else would leave it there
walk it home
or make a phone call crying
but I find no tears inside my skull
nor can I find a reason to stop
instead I hear my inner voice
telling me that I’m OK
(even if I seethe in pain)
I pick myself and the bike up
wipe the blood
fix the chain
and almost reach my daily goal
someone else would call me crazy
or tell me I’m too risky
but I have already fit that bill
lost my mind somewhere
along the bike path when I was sixteen
and I don’t care to find it
instead I hear my inner voice
telling me that I have a story
that my daughters will retell
proudly pointing to my bruises, scabs
as if they are their own
(their own strength,
carrying them forward
when they wish to turn back)
someone else would give it up
admit defeat
but all I hear is my inner voice
telling me that I am who I am
and (for them, for you)
I could never be someone else.
32 (Age, List, Birthday)
1. Sore muscles: a recorded memory of my crash
2. Fixed bike with gears that switch like butter
3. Three beautiful girls
4. Pancakes for breakfast
5. Strawberries in season to go with the pancakes
6. Cross stitching, so relaxing
7. A quilt made by my friend and bought by my husband
8. Two pairs of shoes for Isabella: $8.63
9. New bike helmet (silver to match my bike)
10. Prime rib
11. The last of Dad’s prime rib that they saved for my birthday!
12. Prime rib, second helping
13. Cooked carrots cooked with the prime rib
14. Asparagus (in season!!)
15. Made-from-scratch chocolate cake
16. I didn’t have to bake
17. French vanilla ice cream to go with the cake
18. Fixing the fucking bridging certificates so they’d print
19. 3.8 mile hike
20. View of the flatirons
21. A trail that is accessible by the stroller
22. Girls who tell stories to each other along the trail
23. A survival kit that includes two bottles of Riesling
24. A shirt nice enough to wear to work
25. Rain that pours only once we’re back at the car
26. Printing all the bridging certificates for free
27. All my Facebook birthday wishes
28. The silly ecards Elizabeth sent
29. Earl Grey tea
30. Green olives stuffed with blue cheese and garlic
31. Hershey’s Special Dark
32. The perfect, most surprisingly romantic husband in the world
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