Enjoying the rush of free water over heavy rocks and the
loose breezes skimming the cloud-white foam.
Enjoying the smell of sap leaking from pores in the bark.
Along the river
Among the pines
A path wanders
A path wide and gently sloping from woods to water
Peddling is easy, breathing is too.
Wheels turn freely on faded black asphalt.
Suddenly, she cries out, “a hill, a hill…I hate hills!”
She hears him say, “you are just hopeless.”
He said, “toe clips, you need toe clips.”