Light In the Dark
I remember the time my bike was stuck at school.
I stayed after for rehearsal and it was past seven, getting dark.
With the size of its frame, the bike wouldn’t fit in the trunk so I told my mom I could ride it home,
“Down through Pheasant Branch, it’s safe.”
The blazing white light shining from my handlebars fades into a haze six feet in front of me.
The first slight descent drives me through the night,
Wind passing like a flood against my skin, through my hair.
Silent trees bend as I fly below,
The pounding of blood in my ears the only sound.
Coming up the final hill, calves burning to fight the ascent,
I reach Century and the glow of its street lights.
Out of the dark; a beast from the deep,
My breath a primeval gasp: a silent roar into the night.