Little moments.

A motorcycle ride in the country
brings me peace.
Clumps of yellow wildflowers
among empty cornfields,
the winding road,
my favorite patch of trees.
An old pickup truck,
a barn, a tractor,
little corn sprouts,
perhaps a foot tall.
An old man in a rocking chair,
front-porch sitters,
the elementary school where I grew up.
The sound of the motor
and the wind in my ears,
the warped reflection of my face
in the back of my dad's helmet,
the smell of honeysuckle in the wind.
Little dots of violet
among the tall grasses,
a stream running along the road,
and then we’re home again.

It is these little moments,
vibrant, real, awake,
that make life so sweet.