Bike Trail

Scorched by a bone-dry August,
a dust plume blooms
in constant pursuit behind you.
Autumn has already
left its calling card: the weeds
singed a rusty orange.
The frantic spiders have begun
to curtain the spaces
in between with their flung webs.
After so many summer
rides you know every curve and
dip, become immune
to breathlessness on rising hills.
On this gravel path
there are only two directions,
but nonetheless,
both still carry a person forward.
Whether coming
or going, no matter the season,
you’re in transit
against time’s opposing wind.

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