The Joys of a Spring Ride - Wild Abandon (A contemplation)

I have long periods of feeling trapped and imprisoned. The longest season of confinement is called January and February. I could also name it COVID.

And yet, the winds are shifting. The sharp of the cold has blasted through, and though the air is still chill, I can hear the whispers of spring. I begin to feel the soft ribbons of warmth that fuel the rebirth - the regeneration. 

Every tiny crocus drops color into the ocean-like darkness that has saturated during my captivity, and the color ripples out with every hour. 

And when I finally doff my down, I let the new breath fill my shirt like lusty sails. The air swirls and caresses, and reintroduces my skin to friendlier elements.

As I beat the pedals, I fly through newly greening fields that still hold the memory of a productive summer. Songs I haven't heard in too long echo from the woods near the farmhouse.

I ride into a city filled with a calmer, higher energy; people drunk on the newness that they have known before but haven't consumed in ages. Smiles come easier. Connection is sought instead of the all-consuming-hurry that leads to separation and segregation.

And on board my free wheels, I lose all desire to ever come to my destination, but instead to meander off to somewhere I can commune with the one I have forgotten. 

Under a kinder sky, a more compassionate sun, I can experience all that is unfurling. And I unfurl myself into wild abandon.

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