Cycling, without haste,
Along narrow country roads.
On the edge, undisturbed waste.
Riding, alongside ancient springs
That hatch dry stones and tires.
In his nest of tear strips a blackbird sings.
Eventually, I get to the point of no return.
Where past and future merge.
And no more does the sun burn.
Mar 15, 2021
Mar 15, 2021 at 10:36 PM UTC
Cycling, without haste,
Along narrow country roads.
On the edge, undisturbed waste.
Riding, alongside ancient springs
That hatch dry stones and tires.
In his nest of tear strips a blackbird sings.
Eventually, I get to the point of no return.
Where past and future merge.
And no more does the sun burn.