I tip my helmet forward and drop my head
in an unsuccessful bid to use my visor to reduce the stinging snow flying
headlong into my face and sticking to my glasses. Regardless, snowflakes
plaster themselves against my glasses and slide down to the bottom of each
lense. Once the weight is too great the slushy mass that has collected
slides off onto my cheek. The shadow of my front tire darts back and forth
as the flashing light on one side briefly overwhelms the steady light on
the other. My gloved fingertip wipes away the snow trying to obstruct the
one light to see and the one to be seen. Stopping at red lights, I take
a moment to shake my limbs and brush away the snow trying to wrap itself
around me. Softly through the snow I ride.
Try Not to Sing Along
5 weeks ago
2 comments:
Enjoyed your poetic blog as I'm sitting by the fireplace sipping freshly brewed coffee.
As we travel the California highways, the bikers here don't seem to get your glorious experiences.
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