Bike Path

The asphalt tablet speckled grey
Invites a word-wheel interplay.
This biking, riding, writing place
Evokes a spoke and spoken grace.

By Morning Glory’s farms and fields
Of future salads, pies and meals
The path begins its tary tour
That ends up west at Alley’s store.

Like rhymes before there’s poetry
My dancing shadow beckons me
To see what’s on the path ahead
And watch what gestates in my head.

Through inkwells where the dew has dripped,
The path invites my wheely script,
Extending through the pitch pine trees
With pollen puffed by the biking breeze.

The curving, coasting, contours spin
Like soft shapes in a woman’s skin
And out and in and sense and mind
Are, on this bike path, all combined.

How briefly touched and slight the feel
Of what was real beneath my wheel,
But rich the image, strong the sense
Recalled from this experience.