Monday, November 8, 2010

11/8

Early up, prep a simple breakfast, pack an after-ride nosh.
They like the bread. Along the Atlantic, sea-sprayed, we ride
Into the wind.

Hope their time here was pleasing, but am full
For now, of others, however pleasant all their
Stories so different.

So evening again on your bench as the ruddy-red sun slips
Below the far treelines, below the energy of the day,
I wish rest.

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