3.17.2008

Bicycles On The River

There must have been hundreds of them
white rounded triangular shapes
bobbing in the placidity
gulls,
too far west or too far south
bringing shore beauty to the waters of
the Monongahela.

They seemed nonchalant
towards the landlocked songbirds
chirping stronger than a meager lilt –
a willful effort
to crack the stubborn frost
that stays this asphalt twice hardened
by March, the lioness.

They seemed to know
with sunrise
not quite present
that the thin air would later give way
that day
to softening sun
and malleable soil.