About
As time moved on, I made many discoveries, and learned all of my passions can co-exist, and the only boundaries, are the ones we put on ourselves.
A long, slow climb Followed by a steady descent Passing older homes and new Some grand, for some beaten by time. I came to a sign that read No Outlet. As I peddled, smooth pavement becomes country dirt Marred with tracks of car and hoof. A deer crosses just ahead. Corralled fields, a large red barn Horses strolling about. At the very end, an old farm house. Red clap boards, white shutters, and a picket fence. Flower gardens, Neatly trimmed lawns, Stone walkways and walls. The road cut into the side of the hill Falling off to the right, stretches a large field Leading out to a line of trees. Beyond that forest and rolling hills The sun settling high enough To say it’s going to be a hot day. The farm was flying a Betsy Ross flag. If it wasn’t for the dish on the roof Or the utility lines I could have sworn I’d slipped through time. Gone were the traffic sounds, No planes or jet contrails crossed the sky. A hawk circled high above. Birds filled the field and trees, Their songs filling the air. I stood there listening, The sun on my face, A light breeze, I began to think of what led me here No Outlet. I was true, I could travel no further. But I was able to travel through time I now ride here most mornings It has become my outlet from the noise of my day. Dave Gray