Odes to Randonneuring

Ok, don't laugh at me gentle readers (to borrow a term from Bruce Chandler). I don't claim to be any sort of Poet but do enjoy laying down a verse or two once in awhile and hear are a few about Randonneuring-

Freedom

The freedom of the swift, is the joy of life,
To quickly glide along down the road,
Is enough to calm the troubled soul,
And temper the descending strife,

To pedal a ceaseless rhythm, approaching zen,
Flying like an eagle, over the ground,
Stroke by stroke through,town after town,
And stopping for respite, now and then.

To be free from walls, and tiny spaces,
Randonneur glides, cross fields and lands,
Working their magic, as fast as they can,
Moving in time to far off places.


The Randonneur

A Light in the darkness,
An arrow in the rain,
Across the desert starkness,
Perseveres through pain.

Moving down the highways,
Through hour after hour,
Passing endless byways,
Rationing his power.

Sitting aside a rainy road.
A rider fixes his broken steed,
He keeps his tools amidst his load,
To use in time of need.

A tired soul at end of day,
Pedals slowly along the streets,
moving feebly along his way,
the end of brevet he greets.

Sometimes I dream

Sitting under a flouresent glare,
I gaze out the window and ponder,
How I wish to be out there,
on my bike, to pedal and wander.

My attention outside the window,
Has on an ocean started to drift,
To roads beyond the city glow,
Where troubles and joy, slowly rift

To ride! Amid the cactus and hills!
To glide, cross valleys and plains,
To ride the rollers and endless rills,
forget my sorrow, and soulful pains.

Yet trapped behind a reinforced wall,
I must bide until the time arrives,
To cast off the malaise and pall,
freeing my bike down endless drives.