This poem is inspired by watching the pro bike racers out here in Glenwood Springs. They are beautiful in their colorful race "kits" (name for bike uniforms) as they sweep by.
The Pack
They swept by as a
flock of twittering color,
weaving in and out,
calling to one another,
one shooting out ahead
and being called back
until the end when there
was no calling back,
no twittering,
just the sound
of heavy breathing
and the smell of
sweat and fear
as one, and only
one, raises his arms
to victory.
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1 comment:
Huh. So american cyclists are now calling what they wear when racing "kits." "Kit" is actually the word the British use for any sporting uniform. To them, "uniform" implies a policeman's clothes or some other job-related attire.
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