cresting the rise
hips creaking
lungs heaving
the cyclist quickly
takes in the view:

a surfer
cresting the rise
of blue
setting hips, knees
shoulders, arms, feet
alert for the fleeting
precious moments

then they both
take off

the cyclist
one eye on
the unforgiving road ahead
and one on the seafarer below:

the surfer
one leg forward
one leg back
cutting across the water
aloft, suspended
parallel

the cyclist
spinning
on terra firma
one leg forward
one leg back
make no mistake
descending
blood running
watching
glimpsing
silently urging
the board walker:

the surfer
intent on riding
all the way to shore
to sand, to land
likely unaware
of wheels within wheels above

they roll with the flow
bodies almost still
trusting themselves
the elements and their
transports of delight

too soon
always too soon
gravity defies then
(and defines them)

the cyclist now
pedalling head down
up the next rise

the surfer now
paddling head first
into waves of
froth and foam

the hard yards begin again