Sky blue, more beautiful than any memory of morning he can recall.
The white, delicate clouds slowly drift in and out of his range of vision, accentuating the hypnotic hue of this looming, Texas sky.
A CYCLIST’S PSALM BY GAYLA CHANEY 34THPARALLEL MAGAZINE ISSUE 06
Sky blue, more beautiful than any memory of morning Spencer can recall. The white, delicate clouds slowly drift in and out of his range of vision, accentuating the hypnotic hue of this looming, Texas sky. And the earth beneath him terra firma! Stone and clay overlay a radix of unseen roots, streaming with nutrients, weaving their way through loam and humus to feed the very grass he now feels swathing his cheek. Pliant blades of soft grass create a pillow for his head and cushion his neck as he stares upward. For the rest of my life, he thinks, this magnificent shade of blue will be my favorite color.
His Giro Helios helmet is still on his head, and though he is no longer peddling downhill on the GT Zaskar bike he gave himself last year for his thirty-second birthday, he is still dressed to ri…