Poetry - The Ride


The Ride
by Marilyn R. Wilson

Another rare day loomed.
Very hot, with little breeze.
Unusual for the Northwest.

By afternoon the weight of it
Would land heavily 
On my shoulders.

Lethargic and sweaty,
I would find myself
Drawn to little movement.

The heat not yet in full force,
A cooler morning beckoned.
Come and enjoy me.

On went the bike helmet.
Leg swung high over the bar.
My feet found the pedals. 

The joy of moment hit instantly.
Self-created wind in my face.
Nature flying by.

The heat began to arrive,
Gently caressing me as I rode,
Warming me more each minute.

Then came a single salty drop,
A tiny bit of sweat bursting forth.
It meandered slowly down my back.

That drop was not the last.
Soon others would gleefully join in.
A new drop here, an extra trickle there. 

The hour passed slowly,
60 minutes of joyful surrender
To the beauty of movement. 

By the time I reached home
I was tired but content.
My soul was nourished.

My body, however, spoke loudly.
I was drenched with sweat.
I needed a drink, a towel, a rest.

As I sipped a glass of icy liquid,
Stretch out with my feet up,
A sense of well being filled me.

The heat may rise yet higher today.
I may become wilted and lethargic.
But in this moment, I am content.