Suburbia

The city is ugly and smells of exhaust fumes and decay. Buildings waiting to be torn down, boarded up, sinister. Dragging my tired behind home I start to breath lighter as I cross the river. Just a slight slope up before I race downhill, taking the bike path that has a sharp bend, into the tunnel underneath the busy road and inhaling deeply at the exit. Green pastures come into view. The dyke on my left and a nature reserve on my right. Huge amounts of geese enjoying their evening meal, while the ones on look out loudly announce my arrival, trying to out do traffic noise. One more steep little hill and I am on top of the dyke. It gives me an even more spectacular view of the reserve. Wide bodies of water, green trees, and bushes as far as the eye can see .The traffic noise on the left still in my ear. At the end of the dyke I turn again, one more downhill ride. Like a child I take my feet of the pedals and let my bike run free. As by magic all the city sounds disappear. Blackbirds joyously announce my arrival. As I continue through our suburban park, passing the pond, the allotments, and the pancake restaurant the only sound I hear is the singing of birds, the quacking of ducks and occasionally a croaking frog. Shedding the city as if taking of a cloak that wears me down I instantly forget how tired I am. Life is good