on a bridge I meet a ninety-six year old woman and her friend
wrapped up in babushka scarves and winter coats,
on a tandem dragon tricycle.
they’re on a twenty-mile ride, passing though rock creek park,
taking in the view from the the bridge as I stop, too.
it shimmers, reflecting half-full trees as fall begins to take its leave
“lovely day isn’t it”
“amazing what a ninety-six year old and a couch potato like me can do!”
before they glide away on gold dragon wheels.
their rear license plate leaves this message in its wake: life feels good on a bike.
as I walk, I nearly catch up with them. they’ve stopped again, twice,
just a bit too far ahead–
they head onward.
and in each wheel’s turn, crunching through leaves
I see reflected my hopes for age.
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