The Road, Sky and Mountain
You watch as the pedals move
in a never ending circle,
twin wheels beat the pavement
smoothly silent.
The red bags hanging on the front
flap slowly in the pine scented breeze.
The sky is perfect
few puffy bright clouds
against the morning sun.
A hawk catches the first thermal,
spinning in the sky.
The whistle of a car's wheels behind
is followed by a quick rush of wind,
and the glint of the sun off the window.
The road is straight and narrow
unbending for miles.
Trees, needle thin, point to heaven,
yet the road points to the snow capped peak
miles away,
never growing or shrinking as you pedal to it.
Submitted by the author, James C. Parsons
Copyright 1987, All Rights Reserved
I wrote this in highschool english. It was entered into the Young Writers Competition put on by the Oregon Arts Commission 1987. It won.
It was my personal dream to ride in Eastern Oregon, on those straight, long roads towards, what I imagine is Mount Hood. I haven't been out in the Bend area since I was a kid. I has yet to happen, and I still have the red bags.
This is similiar to what I was thinking of, but the trees are much thinner in my memory.
Rubberside Down!
K'Tesh