One Commuter's Gift

The clouds part after many a long days of damp and dreary existence. The leaves on the trees are teasing the sun and playing hide and seek shadows that flicker, flash and dance like fireflies across my chest. I am taking in the scent of sweet grasses sprinkled with tiny dew droplets that refract the rays and send a prism of color in tiny orbs away from their centers.

It is a day for riding, yet responsibilities call, and I put jacket, helmet and gloves on to head for work. I leave the face shield up to smell the earth drying out from so much damp. With the damp are scents of fresh baked goods wafting from the local vendor I pass, roasting coffee beans from the specialty store, a gentleman’s cologne from the Lexis to my right. While all these are pleasing to the senses, and make me forget my destination, none compare to one single moment of that commute.

The lean into the bend is intuitive as I follow the circumference of the roadway that takes me around the local town. Here the highway undulates like the waves of the sea, and as I near the crest, I receive an early morning gift from the celestial beings. On the horizon is a lone hot air balloon. It is suspended in the firmament as if time stands still. After so much rain, it’s as if the sapphire sky presents herself as a bejeweled princess; a gift to her subjects below. I pay homage. Then from the crest of the hill, I dip once again and the sight is no more. Yet, it burns in my memory still.