There is a joy to riding in Spring rain.

Most of us have forgotten that joy.

The joy we felt jumping with our boots in puddles of water,

of watching the water splash,

of getting wet.

Riding watching the water sprays.

Riding on a path,

I plan my way through the shallowest parts of puddles.

My coat keeps my core dry,

but my legs are soaked.

On roads, try to time the puddles with the cars,

to avoid the worst drenchings from tires and puddles.

Familiar landscapes, change in the rain.

I avoid regular routes to ride on routes less traveled.

Later, home, long after the ride,

I take the sweat shirt worn under the coat during the ride,

from the warm radiator, where it sat to dry,

putting it back on, the sleeves are still wet.

And I remember puddles and rains

from thousands of rains.

And I know I am alive,

and that a good days work is done.