© 2015 by Christopher Clymer Kurtz
This wind might drive me off the road,
Breathes down my neck, into my bones;
A reckless punch with every blow.
Buckle down, press on, pedal and go.
Sometimes I soar, sometimes I rise like an eagle flies.
Sometimes the ride is worth the climb, downhill glide.
My headlight pierces through the night;
A mindless, sweaty sacrifice.
The sunrise almost justifies
A chain, a prayer, a sacred rite.
The smallest thing can throw me off,
Balance lost or barely caught.
Hesitation, a costly thought.
Scrape off the gravel; get back up.