autumn pt 3

4 riders. 3 spilt off, the other i softly said “slow it.” 2 doves sit, lovers perhaps? a nasty cross wind happily steers my bike.

tires spin over slick roots. 2 white tail deer, “hi mr thorn bush,” i crash into! foliage it fades. i pick up a leaf, blood drips on the venation.

daily a scenic river trail sheds her undergarments. a hawk hones in it’s prey, squirrels splurge. lurking is a naked winter.

 

 

 

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