Monday Blues: Ode

 

i peered over the log. rusty rails reflecting years of service, weeks of abandonment, shuffling a surfboard, perhaps even a succession of them, between home and this rocky bit of Pacific shoreline. a resting place on a sandy beach might have been better, a more fitting end, buried and unseen. better than the derision that comes with this visibility. and it may have been that way at one time, until uncovered by the rolling waves. these hard rocks are merciless, the tides pushing them in and over, pulling them back out and over. the gashes and wear, torn leather, split seams, and worse, the tape job, a last ditch attempt to hold it all together. to be seen amongst the round stones, pitied, laughed at, thrown who can remember how many times into the crashing tumbling surf only to be spat back out again. i see you, saddle that served someone so well for so long and I will set you upright on this log where you too can bleach honorably in the sun

The Monday Blues has been an occasional feature here at the blog since inception; the blues, an emotion, a color, a genre of music, with a cycling twist.