|Night flowers reaching across the path|
Summer is still with us in Phoenix. 109°F in the daytime, with more of the same for the longish weekend. Ten daytime commute rides per week lessen my desire for another on the weekend. It was still 95°F after 8pm when I started this ride, but what a difference the sundown makes. Calling the night air cool would be a stretch, but cooling, refreshing, particularly when flying along the canal path on a bicycle. My summer retreat, my refuge from the heat, a place for my mind to roam to the sound of water flowing, and gravel beneath my tires.
|OHSO conviviality by night|
|Rebarish canal adornment, a sign for exit spoken in Gabionese|
|The oft-glimpsed (on this blog) rusty fish of death and light|
The house can't hold me, but this night can on my bicycle. Within loose but totally enveloping arms, of silence and breeze, with fading hints of the desert summer's last broiling shimmers around me. I crouch low and slip between them. This night can hold me, until the next one comes along.