Chatting Amicably

UnknownPhoto by flyhighhg.com.

Chatting Amicably

Eddie and I drove out of the morning mist of the August Catskills

The Quickway to the turnpike and Long Island

A rainbow swarm of hang gliders filled the robin’s egg cloudless sky

Diving fearlessly among the high peaks

The powerful Buick left behind Swan Lake in its wake

Gliding smoothly toward the great city

The fighter pilot and war resister chatting amicably

As the summer heat grew with the morning.

Bruce and I on Motorcycles

Bruce and I on Motorcycles

In past years, Bruce and I rode down the spine of the summer Berkshire Hills from Pittsfield on Route 41 toward Great Barrington, wind flowing effortlessly over our handlebars and helmets, roaring engines’ sound behind us and the gently undulating mountains to our east in pine and spruce and juniper and maple and beech and oak, passing by in great waves of sensual delight.