Today at the end of my bike ride,
enjoined from coasting no-hands,
I imagined wings at my shoulder blades.
I could feel them, and the way my lungs filled
as they opened. My breath deepened,
and emotions pulled at my chest
I could feel the work of muscles
down my back, I could feel
how wind caught
under their downstroke.
I felt myself lifted,
I heard the wing beat,
the rush at my ear.
It was more than enough to compensate
for my three fingers on the handlebar.
II.
I take it as a sign of goodness
that the air has cooled —
the wind has come around from the north
and the clouds have gone to cirrus,
still visible in pink above the afternoon’s
high cumulous, as twilight
wafts in on the drier breeze
promising deep sleep.
©Wendy Mulhern
July 19, 2016
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