I fly

wind slips in my sleeves

Sometimes biking feels like flying to me. Riding my bike is an escape and a flow state. I’m looking forward to biking again when the weather is warm.

—

I need to go somewhere
but where will I go
I fly
wind slips in my sleeves
this hill
where my hands stick out
and I open up
full
cat
cow
it’s the scents
of red leaves
and gold ferns
all
the way
in my lungs
and the chill in the air
comes into my sweatshirt
lifting me
skyward

- by katie anne jamieson

—

I’d love to hear from you. I want to know what you think. Did you like this poem? Did any part of it resonate with you? Let me know.