the next day

The sun was brilliant, and yet the air was still crisp and cold enough to show my breath as I pedaled slowly along the asphalt path.   In your face, the wind chills and bites.  Not harshly enough, and I laugh and shiver until I turn and the warm sun on my back teases of warmer days yet to come.

The pond I circle is frozen and the geese walk atop the ice, and bask in the warmth.  How is that possible I wonder, but the world is full of wonders.  Perhaps each day is one.

How do we spend our days, I ponder?  Each day is twenty-four hours  for every man,  fourteen hundred forty minutes, or eighty-six thousand four hundred seconds so egalitarianly provided to all.

Once through this, how will I spend mine, this precious coin that runs through my fingers, tic, tic, tic  never to be found or sold again.  I don’t really know, just yet.  But I think things are going to change.