Autumn is a season of reaping what we have sown, but also of metamorphosis and recycling. A bittersweet segment of the cycle. Endings. Beginnings. Harvest. Compost. Ready or not, the reality is each day upon us.
While riding this morning, a moment of clarity briefly abbreviated my bike time. I braked, stopped, jotted down most of the words in this poem. And then I resumed my journey.
Hours later, I rewrite the last line of the last stanza, and I know, I am ready.
Cycling So Early
Cycling so early,
pushing, pulling pedals,
pulmonary pumping,
happily hypoxic…
I’m loosing feedback loops
and losing busy brain,
muting passé punch lists
and twitchy-turvy plans.
Every curious curve,
each roller coaster rise
unwinds, gravity-glides
angsty what-ifs away.
Cycling so early
a riverine road in
fortuitous foothills,
ready to recycle.
Cycling & Recycling
A glimmer of clarity, confidence, and conviction. I’ve been wandering and wondering for over a year, inquiring within and without, creating and exploring possibilities, stumbling and backsliding, essaying again,… I wind down this weekend committed to cultivating this readiness.
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