Fully Alive

I alight,
surrounded by teeming faceless ants
colony mentality in their dense, protective armour,
against the cold, metal-cold post.
Needles prick my skin, pierce my face,
not ripping flesh but awakening
a vitality.

Breath in the cold, the chill, the ache
the vitality.

The ants obey the color of the grass and tree and part.
I hurtle forward amidst the swirls of cotton, no, of paper
that first cuts and then melts as a cleansing touch.
To advance, buffeted by the angry breath of Inuit deities from the
blanket white frozen land.
To move, temples pulsating, legs frozen like sentinel hardwoods deep,
the crust and slime and mucous of inhaling, exhaling,
the breath conjuring
a vitality.

To be fully alive in these elements, in this moment,
brings such vitality.



There, that's my effort for today's beautiful commute. 18F in the morning, 34F with a bitter Alberta Clipper beating down on us, bringing single digit temps tonight (although no snow). I left work with only 20min to get to an appointment. I pushed 16-17mph on the way, smiling at pushing the heft of the LHT. On the way home, later, pushing the same on the Beargrass Trail, then noticing that the creek had waves moving in my same direction. What a tailwind! 18.5mph on the Moose! What a ride.

Hope everyone else had a great one too. Peace.

Comments

Frostbike said…
Dude, it's going to be -25 here tonight. I'm glad to hear somebody is riding, because I'm certainly not!
Anonymous said…
I love the poem -- it's better than many poems I've seen in the New Yorker! Stay bundled -- it's COLD out there...
--Laura

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