Cycling

I Keep Riding

The industrial park on the hill
pursues our town
and farmlands
and me

with long asphalt legs
like a big black spider.
Chases us down
little by little
wraps us up
and spits us out
as strip malls
and parking lots.

I try to escape
to the trail on my bike
to back roads
clotheslining little farms together
flung apart like shirts blown free
on open winds.

And I keep riding.

On the trail
deer and fawn watch from the bluff
badger complains
rabbits scare
hawks stare
frogs sing in
the evening

And I keep riding.

About a third of the way
where Paradise Creek strains in summer
honey-hued hawk
breaks my heart
snatching helpless fieldmouse,
then mends me by feeding him
to her bawling babies
in nest atop pine tower.

And I keep riding.

The city fathers talk
of extending their weblike water and sewer lines
out here.
And I keep riding.