My mom who cycles though the park
day after day, racing against the cars,
bikes circles around the runners and walkers
in her path along the greenway through the city.
Day after day, racing against the dark,
leaves fall in red orange yellow under her tires–
gripping the asphalt and spraying road grit,
splashing upward like a unclean fountain,
fanning mud across her back in the shape of a tree
that grows with each pedal stroke churning
with the strength of her legs.
She rides in circles, racing against time
and faster than those half her age
along the greenway through the city,
passing old neighborhoods and schools
she no longer needs for her children.
Yellow orange red keep falling
and she keeps pedaling through time,
ignoring the grit and breathing in crisp air.
My mom’s bike roars like the lion she is,
and you better keep up.