It is zen
A meditation of mind
. . . grounding buoyancy
Once up on the wordless saddle
the cunning road is what it is,
uneven,
cracked, curved, buckled, wily, and crooked
. . . snakelike
. . . twist littered
and potholed with gravity checks
Spinning wheels take each jolt without judgment
turning like twirling thoughts in single-speed
. . . fixed geared
. . . hard tail free coast
. . . moments of track standing for red lights
It is zen
pedals, crank, and path
. . . exertion
the focus of chi
. . . a taming of nerves through traffic
The cunning road is what it is,
uneven, cracked, curved, buckled, wily, and crooked
a regulation of attention
Cycling is a lucid pleasure
It purifies the heart
. . . like dancing
an exercise of balance
. . . grounding buoyancy
. . . mindfulness
It is Zen