Monday, September 23, 2013

Winter is a Hill

I fly down the hill, the gears on my bike making that deeply satisfying, speedy sound. The park breathes deep all around me, all the best smells of fall.

Somebody's barbecuing, somebody else is smoking pot, the trees are all exhaling into the cool fall air.

I push my pedals to make my machine go, anticipating the heavy hill to come.

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