why cycling is the
best thing, even in
the below freezing
with the stars low
to the ground and
waiting for the
warmth of your touch
the sky touches
you so gentle
the wind at your ears
is an old friend
whispering close
an everlasting god
enveloping you, protecting
even when the plant
you are carrying on
your bike rack falls
to the ground
and you go crashing,
a mess of shoes
and lights and
tangled bungee chords,
cold raw fingers
trying to put it all
back together,
there is no reason
to be scared
in the quiet blessedness,
only wild and free
as a white flash
of animal across the
it’s gonna be alright
to brave the winter
living alone,
in honor of a literary
widow doing it sadder,
and in honor of
my now and future
selves, and all the
future loves I must
be healthy and whole