Recent poems by Patricia A. Bruening
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I wrote this for fun one day while watching my husband and a friend ride dirt bikes in the desert
The burning sun beats down on the desert sand;
With only a slight breeze to stir the sparse greenery.
A distant rumble shatters the quiet air;
A trail of dust roars over the horizon.
I squint against the glare of sunlight on metal;
Thunder grows louder moment by moment.
The blur of colors deepens, defining greens, blues, whites
Now fully visible in all their glory, the riders speed
Wheel to wheel along the narrow trail.
A plume of dust rises in their wake to scatter in the breeze
With a squeal of brakes two tires slide to stop
The engines die reluctantly, riders remove helmets
Amid the dust and grime the thrill sparkles in their eyes
Their breathing rapid but slowing
They reach for water to drink thirstily
And once again don helmets, gun the engines
To ride over the horizon into the setting sun
But they will return to ride another day