I ride up the hill.
Already the fog is coming in along Forest Road.
Near the first redwoods, crows caw together in high branches,
then suddenly fall silent,
spread their dark wings
against the gray-and-white sky,
take off fast.
BOOOOM.
The noise is like a cannon shot
or a jet flying low.
But the crows are the only things in the sky.
The bike jumps like I ran into a hole.
BOOOOM.
The trees sway, then jerk in one direction
like the whole earth sneezed.