The Bicycles

They sit in their racks,
sometimes with locks,
sometimes with chains,
seemingly content,
congregating amongst one another.

I don’t see
how they could be content.
Perhaps they’re just passing time,
waiting for their owners
to remove locks and chains
and take them down roads.

They don’t care for scenery,
its all the same.
They want to feel the dirt,
the pebbles, the driveway,
a sign they’re home.

Finally...sweet rest,
until they’re beckoned for action
once again.