eucalyptus dust fills the air
a tree-trimming truck roars past me
bicycle tires humming
on the narrow strip of pavement
between the white line
and the gravel

life is the road on which i ride
full of cracks and potholes
but sometimes when i think
the hill will never end--
my lungs are burning, my legs cramped
i struggle to the peak
and gulp warm, plastic-flavored water
while a cool breeze soothes my burning cheek
and a glorious downhill coast awaits
i realize the faith i thought i’d lost
still remains
and hopes may yet be fulfilled