Quiet Dominance

Voices or goose cries

Come through the sun.

Oh! It's voices.

They're always golden

These fiery forsythia

(When the sun's shining.)

Excitement in air;

Folks are waiting anxiously--

The women's bike race.

Soft cooing voices

Coming from inside the house:

Mama and baby.

Shy blue flowers grow

In numbers by the roadside:

Quiet dominance.

Road's empty, quiet,

Then it's filled with bicyclists

And empty again.

Framed between the trees

Two logs seem to have reclined:

Natural portrait.

Climbing the steep hill,

Many long miles behind her.

How can she do it?