Saturday, August 30, 2014

This Night Can Hold Me and My Bike

Night flowers reaching across the path

Some summer nights the couch can't hold me. The four walls close in and begin to feel constraining. The urge for a kind of escape cannot be evaded, and nor do I want to evade it: I give in, get on the bike, and go for a ride.

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.