A cold, brisk wind chills my fingers and toes, reminding me to pedal hard so the rest of me stays warm. To my left the setting sun bathes me in a golden light as it falls to the end of the earth and makes ready to start a new day elsewhere.
To my right, long shadows goad and tease, "You're late. You're late."
My cadence doesn't miss a beat.
Pulling the horizon up like bed covers the sun snuggles underneath for the night. Just before vanishing, the long shadows laugh, “You're late.”
“No,” I answer, “You're early.”
Tour de Creme
1 day ago