cycling

Gated Garden

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she stands in a suburb
hovering outside
of her gated garden
(the first i have seen).

at home suburbs are twenty miles
from the city center.
here?
less than three.
yes, you heard me right,
the rubbernecked
jaw-to-the-floor looks,
the total appall?

they’re for the three miles
i have put behind me
in seventeen minutes of cycling
(all at sea level, i might throw in)
they think i’m crazy

well…
perhaps turning down
a viable job,
a hefty raise,
and all the American security
i could ever ask for,
and cashing it in for a year in Spain?

vale, lady,
close your gate,
put my bike in your garage,
and let me
tuck my sanity in my back pocket
while i make my new living
speaking English to your children.

let’s save crazy for another conversation
(one neither of us will wholly understand)

Road Trip Haiku #2

/ lovizmytrio / 2 Comments

Smoky Mountain sun
brings another red morning
beauty on my bike

image

Golden Twilight

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i pedal into the sunset,
his dinner in my belly,
blue mountains backed by
a golden western sky

gold shines upon the path,
the endless evening walkers,
melts into cotton candy clouds
turning twilight into night

the circular connection of trails
brings me in and out of cities,
a world all my own, filled with
cottonwoods, creeks, canals

i imagine the townhome
hidden somewhere along the way
where we will retire, bring
our grandchildren home to

i could pick it out along the trail–
a tiny yard, garage, swimming pool,
shaded by the trees along the creek,
protected from city splendor

it would be as perfect as these moments
along the path, my pedals spinning
behind blue mountains, the golden twilight
that we will one day call our own

My Day

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twenty mile morn
miracle van renaissance
baby’s cap and gown

Sailor’s Delight

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i know the old phrase that brings down the sea
each dawn my mind sees the words cross the sky
it haunts the sailors but doesn’t haunt me
the beauty of dawn is what i live by

it shares, red sky at night, sailors’ delight
though surely the pink Pike’s Peak wasn’t viewed
on each red morning with pink clouds so bright
i can feel my whole soul being renewed

it warns, red sky at morning, sailors give warning
missing the mountain peaks’ glorious blue
pink skies at night bring nothing but mourning
to craved-strength muscles that ache to break through

i hear old phrases with opposite terms
as i cycle my way to a new day
what’s beauty to me, to you is just worms
so i’ll take my colors and sail my way

One of Those Moments

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i can’t write without the wind.
i line up my alliteration
against the dustbowl afternoon,
the first time a great gale
almost forced me to the ground

it is one of those moments when
fear forces itself into my forefront
and i could forget where i’m going.
it is just me, my pedals, my perseverance,
and the dust that clings to every pore

i push on through a series of green lights
to the man i love
all the way back fifteen years, and
i tell him today (like so many other days)
of the ride i’ve had,
and in this moment
(it is one of those moments)
with the wearying wind, the look in his eyes,
i see my future lie before me

The Colors of My Morning

/ lovizmytrio / 1 Comment

spotlighted white half circle
against a blanket of navy blue,
shadowy mountains sheathed in pink,
golden streams pouring over bridge,
cotton candy clouds of violet,
calming gray threads stitched into
budding green quilt-work pastures,
deep-set pools of brown nestled
in five heads of beige curiosity.
the moon rests, the sun rises
to the colors of my morning

If I Were to Make You Mine

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i know you had it in you this morning,
the urge to pull me close,
to wrap me in your warmth.
i know it was there between each of us.
could i have spared more time?
could i have cut back
on the hills hovering before me?

sometimes i wonder about the miles
that lie between here and there:
how tightly knit they appear,
how curvacious and beautiful they can be

and if i were to make you mine,
would i have seen the shrinking moon,
would i have made all the green lights
that graciously gave me my record time?
would i have been the same person,
giving in to one moment over another?

these small decisions
made before dawn
are the ones that haunt us in the end

I Am Always Amazed

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i could hear the howling
i had my gym bag packed
i longed for climate control
(i longed for you more)

throw passion to the wind
they always say that
because they’re not driving
into a twenty-mph-headwind
or feeling it edge along
our backs, our tires
as we ride uphill
faster than the opposite side
pushes down

it’s always those curves along the dam
trying to tell us we can’t make it–
they don’t know us very well, do they?
how i ache to reach the end
where i will have full view of the lake,
where you will take me down
the curvacious path
and rebuild the quads
that have longed for you all winter

i am always amazed
i am always amazed
by how connected i feel
(alone on you)
to the world around me,
how i see the water
and in it my grandmother’s love
for looking at the water,
(insert tears here)
how the right song always comes on
(“Sky Blue and Black” this morning)
how all my stress
slips into the howling wind
as i race for a better time,
how i love,
love,
love you