The first rain has fallen
Bringing in the moist cool fall.
The oils wick up
And the plastic paints take on a new demeanor.
My tires make their way across the tarmac
That grips half heartedly
And I remember,
The crisp air brings many memories
And the chimneys begin their scents.
The autom rides have beauty
And new challenges to bear.
Ride swift and wll
Before the frosts come.
But remember wet leaves
Grip not as well as warm asphalt.
Monday, August 18, 2008
Pseudo Biker Poetry
The hot spell that held Colorado in its grasp seems to have broken and quite a bit of rain has fallen in the past few days. In looking at my old stack of poetry I found a poem from 1991 that seemed a good fit: