Downhill (day 1260)

Sweating with a heavy breath
From the hill I had just climbed,
I circled the fourtyfive spouted fountain
Spitting mist like Niagara Falls
On my bicycle gliding silently
To observe, round and round as I went,
I was watched by more than just sweet little birds.
For, at every post there was a valiant sentinel
Eying me as I passed,
Who saluted on the hour every hour
To lords I had never met,
Captains of yesterday
Whose presence was lingering
In the shiny shackles about their vests.
And in my ignorance I sped away,
For my whole route,
From whence I had just come,
Was downhill the whole way!

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