Late July Morning Ride

Blindingly bright morning sky
Clear, but for a few wisps
Over the northern peaks

Pale yellow butterflies
Flit among the amarillo
Brittlebush blossoms
Blooming for the umpteenth
Time this season
Tuesday’s monsoon waters
Pooled under
The Congress Street bridge

A new bridge spans the
Brush-clogged, homeless and
Trash strewn dry
Santa Cruz riverbed

While a lone hawk
Surveys his riverbed
Hunting ground from a
High bridge support

Dark spandex-clad
Weenies barrel striaght at me
Out of the dark shadows
Their only inkling of approach
A flicker in the shade
Like breeze-fluttered leaves

As they yell at me to
Watch where I’m going
Orders from the bike path’s
Spandex nazis who
Think they own it

There are no rules for the path
Just a set of guidelines (suggestions)
Four or five that boil down to
‘Be courteous’
Which the spandex nazis
Seem to miss … almost always

Except for the nazis
A very pleasant ride
Meditative and entertaining
As a roadrunner gives me
The double-dog-dare-you eye
And scoots over the edge
Into the dry riverbed
But I’m not so stupid
As to follow
At least, this time

Home at last
Trike in the shed
My popsicle already gone
Feet on the ottoman
Heavy eyes blinking
Sliding closed
Put the final touch on my
Late July morning ride
And contemplate
My toes

–LE – 7/24/25