how divine to ride a bike in the gentle rain
a warm mist from invisible eyes in the breeze
turning the asphalt blacker than a starless night

simply sublime the flowers with petaled wings
that align the empty sidewalks and fill the massive trees
towering the row homes confined by pandemic fright

i see nobody i touch nothing but my handlebars
in the silence i too am frightened and alone
imagining the endless possibilities of infection

i ask hour by hour who’s turn it is to die
as the air fills with pollen and the dust of winter
this day my breath is strong my nostrils clear

it was so marvelous my dear I could almost sing
i pedaled through the drizzle with the thrill of speed
how sublime was my ride in the corrupted spring.