Although I had a million things to do yesterday, it was so unseasonably beautiful, that the day would have been wasted had I not taken my son for a bike ride. Good thing I did, because I came back with the start to a poem...
Trail Ride, Late November
Today is a day to gather sunlight.
We hit the trail insatiable-- just hours
after the first hard freeze-- we know
today is a gift. Light soaks into our skin:
we store the golden glow across the trees,
the dancing reflection on the lake,
the heavy warmth in the wind--
we tuck these things away for colder days
to come. Such afternoons are numbered.
Daylight is again being rationed.
Even on this warm abyss, when we arrive home
hours before dinner, the sun will already be sinking.
We talk hardly at all as we weave our bikes
in and out of patches of light and shadow,
savoring the way light clings to our skin
which just days before had been hidden away
in handknits and factory wool. Today is a day
to collect gold, and yellow, light and glow,
to ready our souls for the winter ahead.