Trails go over bridges
with names from the past
Cordilleras Creek, San Francisquito Creek
reminder of river valleys, river people, red wooded hillsides
coursing through us creasing the landscape.
Water tags to the past are calming
terrorizing moms with strollers, toddlers on trikes
plastic bags in the marsh the air damp with dust and diesel
Can't let the past slow us down
got appointments to make, shows to watch
socially speed is responsible.
A goose chick through the front wheel.
A child's gasp.
We are all crowded on this little trail.
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Riding a bicycle, without fumes, noise, dust, scares, splash, speed, loud music, inversion layers, irritated eyes, or distracted drivers, is CPR for a dying planet.
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