My Bike Takes Me for a July Ride

My sweet, kind, portable bicycle.

White with baby blue lettering.

A water bottle holder and three gears.

It begs for some air in the back tire before we take off.

Wants to show me the trail

and make me exercise all in one.

I agree to the adventure,

but wear my cushioned bike shorts, just in case.

I Love the Coasting!

I’m glad to have water.

“Why won’t you go into first gear?” I ask (a bit irritated)

It stays stubborn until I coax it gently and consistently.

Monarch butterflies fly by and with me.

Green grasshoppers hop on the trail 

as it dips and winds beside a mature forest.

A doe with her twin fawn shows herself.

Cautious. But her golden-orange coat gives her hiding spot away.

The two wait for her to cross the road.

They think they’re hidden.

I wait, but their patience is much more instinctive than mine.

Later a rabbit thinks it’s invisible, too.

But, it’s in plain sight.

Looking like a part of the short grass

only not green and not thin.

The trail turns into a wooden, boardwalk trail,

As it crosses over a river and swamp.

Fat lily pads spread out across the still water,

Straight and tall cattails spread up.

Painted turtles look comfortable with July.

Their shells out of the water with just the tip of their noses.

The fish look at ease just below the water.

A man with a long white beard,

standing on the boardwalk,

tosses in a fishing line. 

He hugs his body to the railing as I ride by, 

like I was a tornado trying to toss him

up in the air and make him lose the huge fish he’s sure he’ll catch.

A woodpecker sounds through the pines.

A train in the distance, warns everyone it’s coming through.

I hear a barking dog.

West Olive, Michigan

Turkeys must hear my bicycle’s coasting sound.

They head for the ferns, down a small hill.

The young turkeys fly, they don’t trust their feet yet.

I count at least twenty birds.

Spiderwebs, buzzing bees, spinning dragonflies.

Daisies, lilies and Queen Anne’s Lace

scatter themselves along the edges of the bike path.

I get lost.

Lost in the details of this world of nature.

Unfortunately, I'm also lost finding the right turn on my way back.

“It won’t kill me,” I say to myself, before my self has a chance to complain.

I already feel my thighs and calves burn.

I’ve gone two miles out of my way and I have to backtrack!

“It was worth it, right?” my bicycle reminds me.

“Yeah, yeah, of course it was more than worth it.” I reply with a smile on my face.