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 …