Ripples

I remember my red Schwinn bicycle with a banana seat

And how I’d peddle fast and hard with ribbons on the handlebars

Flying in the breeze

Past fields of summer crops

Sweet Corn on my left

And smelly onions on my right

I was intent

Intent to find my spot -a secret spot- on the side of an irrigation ditch

Where I’d watch beautiful ripples form

After each plop of a nearby rock

There I’d sit

In a field of dreams