Few sights hold more delight on my November morning bike ride than sunlight piercing dark firs to spotlight a yellow maple’s autumn-limped leaves. Bright as flame leaping among the evergreens, but for once a pleasing conflagration.
Our grassy airfield glitters under a tarmac of yet unfrozen dew. Where another solar spotlight weaves through treetops, steam billows as if from a Yellowstone hot pool, minus only the azure highlights.
On this eve of a perilous election, an island neighbor walking tail-wagging dogs warms me with a smile as my tires crunch the gravel and I plunge pedals homeward.
Come what may tomorrow, this morning few sights hold more delight.