Tuesday, December 30, 2014

Everything

to clear roads and starry skies, 
dry pavement and steady climbs, 
smooth curves and the feeling of flight, 
the whisper of rubber on stone and lime; 

to forests and plains, valleys and hills, 
long trips and short stuttered stills, 
the vanishing point passed way on back 
and nothing but dust left in our tracks; 

to nowhere but forwards, 
to nowhen but now, 
to nobody but us, 
to nothing but... 

two wheels and a chain, 
and a well-balanced frame, 
a rider, a bike, and a claim. 

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