The tracks weave left to right,

the dust remains behind.

The grass gets ripped into the air,

there sits a rider on his bike.


He puts his foot back to the pedal and off he goes.

The tires slicing, cleanly through the dust.

The wheels somersault through the air.


The sky starts to drizzle,

the dust turns to mud,

the sun starts to set,

the rider heads home.