Sacred Cycling

Pocket Poem #10

To Mom My mother, Helen, died over two weeks ago. And, by the time this entry posts, it will be my birthday, my first birthday without her. I began sitting with Ross Gay’s poetry a few days ago, and as my cycling season begins–a little late this year–I will begin it with this poem in …

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Metta to the Editor

A few days ago, the temperatures here in southwestern Pennsylvania reached and hovered around 50 degrees Fahrenheit for a whole afternoon.  I couldn’t help myself.  I had to get out and pedal!  I chose to jump on a rail trail not far from home.  I knew it would most likely be muddy and messy.  And, would probably be teeming with …

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Icicle Bicycle, Pocket Poem #9

Brightly gleaming ice falls liningthe cliffs on this morning’s ride.Glistening, fresh, freezing wind whipping.I am alive. I am alive. I am alive! Invigorated and absorbed,Seven doesn’t skip a stroke,we move mightily and meticulouslyas the road continues to slope. Upward we ramble,twisting tenaciously through the trees,hearing ice crack, frozen bubbles bang,as the forest frostily breathes. I …

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RIP Queen Elizabeth II

Let us not take ourselves too seriously. None of us has a monopoly on wisdom. ~Queen Elizabeth II The path, of course, is not always smooth, and may at times this year have felt quite bumpy, but small steps can make a world of difference. ~Queen Elizabeth II