Leaves of Grass

This morning I rose early and rode out into the darkness of the forest. It’s tough to get out of a warm bed this time of year but I felt like I needed to escape, if only for an hour before my busy day began. Most of the leaves are down by now so the technical bits are a little unnerving when riding in the dark. The surface may look soft when covered with leaves but the rocks still lay in wait beneath.

Halfway through the ride I popped out at a popular cove along the coast. A cold front is moving through today and at this early hour its vanguard had just begun to push off the land into the sea.

Behind me I heard footsteps so I turned to see an older man out for his morning walk. He greeted me as he popped out from the shadows into the light at the edge of the rocks.


Waiting for the sun

“Wow, look at how those colors reflect in the water” he remarked from beneath his hunter orange cap, his eyes dancing across the scene. “Every morning it’s just a different shade of beautiful at this spot. I come here every day, rain or shine”.

We talked for a bit and as it turned out he had been a cyclist in his younger days. Naturally the conversation turned to bikes and places we had each explored via two wheels. As we talked a particularly strong gust of wind materialized from somewhere near the rising sun. With leaves s swirling beneath our feet he pulled his hat lower to a point just above his eyes.

“Well, I best be going before it gets too cold. Sure is a beautiful morning to be alive…”

He paused for a second then smiled as his eyes shifted toward the rising sun.

“But aren’t they all?”

Yes, they are.


The Arc of Triumph

“This is what you shall do; Love the earth and sun and the animals, despise riches, give alms to every one that asks, stand up for the stupid and crazy, devote your income and labor to others, hate tyrants, argue not concerning God, have patience and indulgence toward the people, take off your hat to nothing known or unknown or to any man or number of men, go freely with powerful uneducated persons and with the young and with the mothers of families, read these leaves in the open air every season of every year of your life, re-examine all you have been told at school or church or in any book, dismiss whatever insults your own soul, and your very flesh shall be a great poem and have the richest fluency not only in its words but in the silent lines of its lips and face and between the lashes of your eyes and in every motion and joint of your body.” – Walt Whitman, preface to Leaves of Grass

This entry was posted in Uncategorized. Bookmark the permalink.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s