A Septuagenarian’s Joy of Cycling

Feet circling,
gears changing,
ten miles waiting.
Used to be twenty.
Ten is now plenty.
Gearing up for twenty-five,
giving himself a high-five.

Where are the other old guys?

He’s the only one on the road.
His legs both screamed and crowed.
Back home, he’ll hoist a brew,
one or maybe two

then a little shut eye.

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