From the six-lane highway that crosses the surging Chattahoochee River to the flooded banks where the swamp lily will soon bloom and the mother geese’s guttural, primordial cries keep me far away from their fuzzy little offspring, my camera dangling uselessly off my shoulder, you’ll find me stopping to look closely at life.
From the heads-down cyclists clutching their aerobars and spinning their wheels from one wild and untamed lot to the other, two and half miles at a time, over and over, to swaying golden grasses and a spray of buttercups, you’ll find me stopping to look closely, yet again. Yet again.
Traveling at the Speed of Bike 