What I see on my bike ride

A muskrat meanders through a ditch, seemingly unaware of me;

a frog hops into green water laced with algae;

a couch, overgrown with weeds, invites me to lay down and rest for a while.

A raccoon lays dead in the street - I say a prayer as I pass.

Mattresses lay scattered on the side of the road - merging the indoor with the out.

A young child is entranced by a tiny turtle running across the sidewalk;

I, too, am gaze in awe as the turtle disappears into the grass.

A leaf bug hitches a ride on my leg - and stays - until I politely ask him to take his leave;

I wonder if he thinks the hairs on my legs are grass.

Sunflowers wave hello to me in the wind; 

plump eggplants sit atop a garden stand, making me wish I liked eggplant.

A shy kitten runs under a car at the sight of me;

a lazy dog sunbathes on the pavement, ignoring my cheerful “hi puppy.”

A doe and her fawn graze across a pond - standing alert as I pass.

A toad narrowly misses my tire as he hops across the side walk;

I feel awful, for a moment - then grateful.

Men hard at work building a new housing development load materials from a pickup;

farmers diligently tend their fields.

Butterflies dip and dive along side me, joining me on my journey, if only for a moment.

A discarded lighter greets me from the pavement. 

Countless cars fly past me as I mozy on.

The sun beats down on my skin from her place in the sky;

the wind blows through my shirt, whispering hello, cooling my damp skin. 

A spiderweb stretches across a bridge, forming a gate that beckons me to turn around - and I do.

I look around and I love all of it;

every beautiful, dirty, exciting, disgusting, ethereal, sickening, lovely, twisted, alive part of it.

Author's note: this poem was inspired by the work of Mary Oliver.