The other week, I attended a free verse workshop via Zoom led by my librarian friend Victoria. For the penultimate exercise, Victoria showed us a picture of a bicycle standing before a sunlit field, shadows spilling into the foreground. We were supposed to write ten lines about it. Here’s what I came up with:

She stands alone, fielding sunlight

Like she was born of shadow and dew

Light touches, light ebbs, births and kills

The radiance of tomorrow’s yester-eve

Hungry eyes peep, open ears gape

And her ever-bearing frame, boneshaker

And knee-scraper, at last loses its balance

Buckles, tumbles with the the light

And spills its burden onto the pavement

Only blood-drawn shadows remain

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