long roads – cycling

Wisconsin has a rolling heart of the country beauty. Living near the city we often forget how wide and bountiful the US is. Although on climbs there is often only one thought in mind, the next pedal stroke, I find cycling a good place to work on poems. It can be a solitary moving meditation, a place to pray.

Chris coming up a long hill

Chris coming up a long hill

After three days on the road, a stay at a legendary bad motel “Ikes”, and a thirty mile stretch of rolling hills, a glass of New Glarus Old Milwaukee Belgian Red hits the spot. Hunger may be the best sauce, but this Lambic like brew which tasted of cherries is the single best beer I have known.

Near the Fox River’s gentle boundaries Daffodils peek forth amongst the trees Iridescent in winter’s defiance As I and spring silently passed them by I did not stop and tarry there Though in Summer heat they’ll wane and fade And yes, I loved their beauty dearly But had places to be and promises already made

Near the Fox River’s gentle boundaries
Daffodils peek forth amongst the trees
Iridescent in winter’s defiance
As I and spring silently passed them by
I did not stop and tarry there
Though in Summer heat they’ll wane and fade
And yes, I loved their beauty dearly
But had places to be and promises already made