Turning Point

By Paula Andrist

Wind-swept plains,
Blue sky overhead.
A colorful ribbon,
Passes by in a whirr.

Riders talking,
Watching vigilant.
Ready to move,
React.

The break far ahead,
The peloton hunting.
It will be caught,
Thwarted.

The road turns up,
Towards the heavens.
Up the mountainside.

Who will pass this test?
Who will be left?
Who will win the day?

Accelerations,
Attacks.
The peloton ripped,
Shredded.

Some grind,
Some dance.
They all suffer,
On the mountainside.

Unforgiving,
Unrelenting,
She claims her victims,
One by one.

Fly away,
Away from the others.
One breaks out,
Alone.

Five escape,
Chasing, pursing.
Slowly they dwindle.
Faltering, falling.
Then there was One.

He soldiers on,
Catching the First.
Hope returns,
To win the day.

They ride on.
Struggling valiantly,
Against the mountain.
Laboring.

The goal in sight,
A sudden movement!
A streak of green,
Flying.

Dashing all hopes,
He steals the day.

But the blow has been dealt.
Now starts the fall,
Of the man in Gold.