The Bicycle Tourer
Oblivious, the motorized world whizzes
by, senses numbed behind the glass,
smell deadened to the lilac breezes
high above the windy mountain pass.
My bike and I ascend long hills, steep
and slow we make our way,
inhale the clover, talk to the sheep,
wave to the farmer baling new hay.
We flex our muscles, stretch our sinews,
test our bodies in eclectic terrain;
slowly focus on the distant hues,
cycling through wind, snow and rain.
All our senses fill with splendor.
Separateness diminishes with each mile.
We’re free to fly like the great condor,
my bike- Rocinante and I, travel in style.
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