An ongoing installation of poetry by local and national writers.
Want to see the window in person? Contact us for directions!
(for all of the bike commuters out there…)
MAYBE ALONE ON MY BIKE
I listen, and the mountain lakes
hear snowflakes come on those winter wings
only the owls are awake to see,
their radar gaze and furred ears
alert. In that stillness a meaning shakes;
And I have thought (maybe alone
on my bike, quaintly on a cold
evening pedaling home), Think! —
the splendor of our life, its current unknown
as those mountains, the scene no one sees.
O citizens of our great amnesty:
we might have died. We live. Marvels
coast by, great veers and swoops of air
so bright the lamps waver in tears,
and I hear in the chain a chuckle I like to hear.
by William Stafford
“Maybe Alone On My Bike” by William Stafford from The Way It Is. © Graywolf Press, 1999.