Is my bike ploughing

'Is my bike ploughing,

That on my daily ride

I hear the crunch and squeal

as snow under tires abides?'

Yes, the tread digs in,

The legs pumping now;

It's these steady rhythms

o'er the land our fathers ploughed.

'Are snow machines whining

Along their groomed trail,

Many seated, chase with fuel,

While I rise, push my rail?'

Indeed, there's game in timing,

We play where we belong;

The bike stays up, the rider

stays up to ride on long.

'Is my girl happy,

Can we live long as one,

Holding on to words and tears

And finish what we've begun?'

Yes, we embrace lightly,

We lie not down, nor fall:

We are both quite contented.

We ride on, the day calls.

'Is my friend hearty,

While I push farther on,

Will we not all find rest

At this end and beyond?'

Sure, friend, I ride easy,

I would ride when I choose;

I pump my thighs like iron,

I seek, I cannot lose.

Ride report:

in: -27'C wind N 15 ks

out: -22'C wind SSE 8 ks