Pure Happiness

The drumbeat of rain on the skylight
proclaimed freedom from the duty of Tuesday's grueling
training intervals on my bike up Sunshine Canyon.
Twenty minutes later, a splash of evening
sunshine lured me out for a spin
of my own design, no route, no heart rate monitor,
no one to keep up with, not a single goal.
Every intersection posing the same question;
sometimes left, sometimes right, a few u-turns
when the sun disappeared and rain danced in puddles.
Six turns around Stazio stadium, I watched the progression of
four baseball games, the teams rotating in and out
of the field, strikes, hits and home runs.
I watched rain clouds sweep
down the mountains to the west, streaks of
grey washing the City clean, dried by shafts of
sunlight tinged in pink.
I greeted robins and red-winged blackbirds
sitting on fence posts along Cherryvale Road,
and listened to the chorus of frogs in the swamp
next to the horse coral that needed cleaning.
Dusk settled in, cars turned on their headlights,
the sun settled behind the mountains.
No goals, no plan, no route, just me, the road,
the birds, the sun and the rain.
Pure Happiness.