KRATZMC

My friend Bob Hole sent out this poem and it’s worth sharing.

I Rode With My Buddies Today

by Kari Prager

I rode with my buddies today.

We rode in a line of headlights and tailpipes, not going anywhere special, not even going fast, just meandering like a herd of elk to move through the forest at our own pace.

Our sound precedes us, not loud but unmistakable, the power of this most romantic way of moving.

The pleasure is in the going, the mobility, the little acts of control that contrive to keep us centered on the road.

The crackle of dead leaves, the burnt bitterness of autumn, the smell of the moon still shining in the blue of the sky, magical in the motion of the moment.

I feel my friends flowing around the bends, the line of bikes without conscious order, in symmetrical array, till we signal the end, stopping and turning back into individuals, the magic fading as the motors are stilled, the jackets come off, and we breathe in the mundane and profane air of the stationary world.

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