Riding to Work

the final bridge before crossing to the other side,
from golden leaves to paved parking lots,
from the breeze across my cheek to fluorescent lights,
from breathing deep to holding my breath.
water flows under this bridge, high in Spring,
a more relaxed flow in Fall to capture the leaves
and carry them, every so slowly, dancing on each
ripple across farms and fields, slowly, slowly
to the open sea.