052515   052524

My spiritual life has poetry
euphoria and motorcycle riding 
Glacier National Park.
A summer dawn 
the campground not yet day
before tourist RVs
before road construction lanes 
Going-to-the-Sun 
the glacier sparkling 
hairpin twists at the top
wider faster lower down
long sweepers into the river valley
tears of joy and morning cold.
During breakfast warm-up at the lodge
a couple approached:
having noticed I’m on a long ride 
would I like someone to talk to
they could eat with me.
Perhaps I looked lonely or tired
she described riding her new bike fast
across the country several times
waiting for his vacation to start.
Listening mostly 
maybe I said 
New Hampshire and
not having a destination in particular.
From there forest fires fogging the road
I turned north to the border
the Rockies and hot springs up there.