My Yerning
When Snow Falls, But Trail Calls
Dear Wednesday,
Snow piling up outside my window today and I can't help but think of you. Remember Silver Mountain back in July? That perfect Sunday when you rested against that pine tree, your teal frame popping against the forest green, that ribbon of dirt trail practically begging us to fly down it.
I miss the way you dance over roots like they're nothing. The quiet of the woods with just your tires on dirt and my occasional shouts bouncing between trees.
Right now you're gathering dust instead of dirt, and I'm collecting cabin fever instead of memories. This snow feels like a personal attack on our relationship.
But hang tight, old friend. Winter's just a season. We'll be back bombing down Silver Mountain soon enough, chasing gravity and dodging responsibilities.
Until then, I'll just stare at your photo and dream of dirt.
Your temporarily grounded rider
~bill