New Vistas off the Tan-Zih Bike Path

dragonflies hover like mad drones,
searching for terrorist mosquitoes
over a tall, stiff, lawn of rice paddies,
large enough for a field of dreams.
that is what it seems to be,
from a wooden kiosk off the Tan-Zih path,
where a new vista detoxifies me,
from civilization's wrath.



unseen roosters greet the day,
like scooters in the hurried fray. 
in free range play they see a light,
a shaft from heaven reaching down
to someone's dinner plate with
rice that swayed in Tan-Zih breeze,
landscaping our viewpoints, 
with only us to please.



congressional poets mincing words
at an Am-way convention, expenses-paid.
excitement from the bleacher seat,
one and all the chairman greets.
even winners pay a price,
that losers lost poetically,
from angles they cannot strangle,
recited refreshingly. 

bicyclists peddle the lengthy path,
passing time smiling, retired, reaching
tanks and train tracks, jet airplanes, 
as alone i sit gazing through the distance, 
writing yesterdays of tomorrows as
tail gunners shoot, give me flack.
i prefer facing nature that fills my eyes,
ride further, why, in the end doubling back.



the American Eagle has landed,
this spacey traveler disembarking, 
a testament to resiliency and professionalism,
but even that cannot undo poor management,
their only prophet, the bottom line
that does not recognize alien talent
over the hill and through the woods,
new vistas on his palette



tarry not home before the storm.
finish this verse, get back on the bike. 
ride rejuvenated through green fields,  
palm trees bent and swayed.
stay not long in stranded days,
but ride along her river bed,
feel me coming back instead,
before this poet is famously dead. 

Sept. 2, 2016