Sunny Sunday

Started the day off with a conversation with a hawk.

Was riding by when I saw him sitting on a fence post. I had heard his cry early in the morning and checked outside, but everyone seems to being hiding safe. So when I saw him and quietly swung around and stopped two feet away. We stared at each other for a moment. "Good morning" I said to the magnificent predator enjoy his demeanor of confidence. He turned in another direction and without a sound, flew down the alley, off on another search for survival.

Continuing on my way, catching my breathe in the chill, getting my body reading for the rhythm, I noticed all the leaves have fallen. I had watched as they drifted down to join the others flocking across my path swirling in their dance with the wind and now they are natures carpet.

The hills are not as difficult when the weather cools. The silence is more intense without the rustle. The traffic was light as the church goers were seated and the football players were preparing for the games and the shoppers were already buying. Oh what a season.

It was a rather uneventful ride, a little faster than some Sundays but with a familiar easy feeling. At the Boulevard, I stopped for the traffic to decide directions and a couple walked pass. "They are like my friends" the young woman said. The gentleman in his winter skull hat mumbled and they walked on. Pressing hard on the pedal I got up to speed across the street and continued on my way thinking I had just ease dropped in on their conversation. I had no intention of doing so and they probably didn't even notice I overheard them.

As I rode past the rows of century old houses I saw a home security sign and thought," I don't have that one." Like a fraternity prank, gathering security signs seems to give me some strange joy.

Passing a motorcycle parked by a corner wedge bistro, I think of our conversation yesterday of the number of wreck on a bike. After four times, it is probably a sign that riding two wheels is not good. If I had the same record I would not be on this ride through the city's first suburbs.

Rounding the triangle park, noticing the young mothers still in their styles scarfs and tall boots knowing that look will dissolve into the team chauffeur practically and the attraction of young lions will give way to the family dynamic.

My pocket buzzes and my adventures friends bid farewell before their voyage home. Let the sunshine guide your way and be safe. The message brings a smile.

With that warm feeling, I continue on watching the cars pull out from their rows of frozen movement to forage for libations and food stuffies to partake during the afternoon of staring at a lighted screen thinking this is life.

I pause to watch the hawk fly overhead sailing on the breeze.

Climbing my final hill I pass the remains of a bunny that lost a contact with a mobile machine. "Sorry" I spoke softly to the carcass as I passed, knowing the hawk or the crows would eat well tonight. The circle continues.

So as I park one cycle for another to join the hunt, I consider my options for the day. Continue last night's music entertainment? Spin more seasonal music? Watch large men appall themselves at one another in an effort to move a oblong brown balloon to the cheers of thousands?

time to go. I need a beer.

Just another day in just another life.