Posts tagged ‘winter biking’

January 29, 2015

Winter Biking

While biking thru the winter months, in bitter cold and snow;
There is no excuse or reprieve, just cause to go.

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December 15, 2013

College Park Cold Stroll

Still chill-tempered air looms about spines of bare brown limbs.

A distant Sun present offers no reprieve with the light it gives.

 

Standing Street signs,

Power lines,

And snow piled high.

 

A winter witness bends to nature’s whims.

Blood slips through flesh in faint blue veins as we just live.

 

This, as chimneys send indecipherable smoke signals into the pale blue sky above the hills.

 

Molecules tighten, tense, and slow their course together.

Through the dark season we trod along willingly as we try.

 

***

Visiting that shoveled walk circumference portion around College Park, St. Paul, MN.  

October 21, 2013

Morning Read (Just the Leaves)

Morning Read,

Rain wasn’t coming down cats and dogs, but it was discouraging none the less.

Biking up Como to St. Paul from Marcy Holmes had to be done,

This commute remained a process before a process.

 

Water spray wet and cold,  pedaling made difficult two-fold by the amount of cigarettes smoked.

 

Fallen leaves foretold a story foretell as fall had happened, autumn was here.

Four seasons, all was in order well.

 

This time, the travel had served a purpose, dreary Sunday morning.

 

***

 

Just the Leaves, 

 

They float on air from a branch,

To river below,

Through states in a watery escape,

Their colors all aglow.

February 6, 2013

Big-Small City Blues (Minneapolis Frigid)

You can find us foraging on the harshest of days.

To a Jet-Setter’s dismay, we amaze.

 

:  Daily occurrence

 

Layered like onion with attire and attitude.

Acting rude to those cordial tourists who seem to just pass through.

 

Seeking truth, priority of enormous proportions, propensity.

 

You can find us biking in any weather; seen worse, seen better.

Times like today, think about bringing an extra sweater.

 

(Some sit and lay.)

 

Maybe a shovel if your neighbor’s in trouble.

Finding a sidewalk with a walkable pathway, can be a puzzle.

Thinking outside of the bubble; we are not all shut-ins.

 

The hardiest travel gear gets soaking wet, dried, and molded.

The 18 will honk if you miss the starting gun on a green light, Metro Transit states symbolically: you’ve been scolded.

Such plight!

 

I remember a few months back, 120 degree heat index seemed funny.

Right?

I remember a few days back, negative 30 and sunny.

Right?

 

Seen sight; the visibility is impossible tonight.

I might be late.

You might feel the wind-chill’s bite.

 

I can’t see myself on my bike, can you?

Sit in and look at words again.

 

Refreshed by a novel movie and touching flesh, nostalgia we all forget.

Under all that puff.

 

Happenings; futures, pasts, present, time we’ve spent dwelling in resentment on the climate.

This doesn’t happen outside.

 

Look at the skies; there is always something to complain about.

 

Trapped inside; a cupboard small-life-style-apartment-renting-type-typical logic.

In the sun we used to frolic.

 

Snow builds up at the door, but when it snows the temperatures soar, or at least we think so.

A cool breeze pushes at the window.

 

Humming and buzzing of snowplows and traffic wake me from my slumber.

Trapped under multiple layers of blankets and a duvet cover.

 

In between Christmas and Valentine’s Day I am at a constant funeral:

The air is noticeably staler on the interior, seeing those more closely in tight quarters.  Emotions become more pronounced.  All judgement is irrelevant.  The reality of the situation becomes clear; one of us has to disappear in the whiteout, the others must stay.  Yet, eyes remain sunken as longer become the sun-rays.  

Counting days; contorted, frayed, frazzled, and astray.

 

We traverse the busiest roads; dangerous travel to make minimal loot.

Tie the boot.

Spoon the soup.

 

Look out on to the street-slop on your feet.

 

Something’s amiss, a chain slip, a tire flat, shoot!

Gloveless hands on handle bars, the thought seems aloof.

Vitamin C for juice.

 

Sit rigid in your chair-1,000 yard stare.

 

What’s in it, what’s given?

Proof that we enjoy the region.  Proof that we enjoy the seasons.

Gaining insight from book shelves; persistent, driven, emboldening self.

 

Commonplace; we all complain, but when we do naught but talk of change we remain the same.

The same.

The same.

 

Disgruntled and contented; seeming like an oxymoron.

Suggestions simply get a passive aggressive response, and move on, stay where you belong.

Or moan and move on.

Moan and move on.

 

No!

No, not me.

And no other soul in this big-small city.

 

We stay for another day, Minneapolis is full of play and easy ways, except for today…