Every morning, I pack my things and ride
down the hill to the path by the river.
The wind-chill makes me shiver from inside
my blue jacket, and I halfway cover
both hands in my pockets, watching the sun
light the backs of crows perched on the railing.
I see their chests breathing with the cycle
of my pedals—circulating as one
being; eyes pierced from the cold, reflecting
twilight’s frigid aspect, recognizing
the parallel air surrounding us all.
My expeditions have become a kind
greeting to share with others passing by
who nod with acceptance as our paths find
each other along the route, and so I
always smile back, reminding myself
that everyone has their obligations.
Everyone is trying to discover
new ways of connecting inner beliefs
with the hope of removing poor actions
from the past; beginning a clear presence
bursting at a pace that surges faster.
Even in the rain, I still smile at crows
enduring the cold morning air at dawn
alongside the steep banks sitting in rows
of black. Every now and then I will yawn
out a cloud that disappears to the sky
up above, matching the colors drifting
beyond, but still I focus on the beat
circulating my pulse, trying to dry
both hands in my pockets while pedaling
along in my soaked blue jacket, feeling
like the river does where the ocean meets.
Chase Maser is a poet and freelance writer based in Los Angeles, CA. He received his undergraduate degree in Creative Writing from UCLA in 2017, and he is currently the co-founder of a literary nonprofit called Philosopher’s Stone Poetry Co.
This article was featured in Matter Thoughts Issue 1 – Horizons