The Luce Line
The Luce Line The tires of my Schwinn crunch the crushed gravel of the Luce Line Trail. Blooming morning glories line the meadows. A canopy of maples and ironwood shelter me from the sun. It is late July, and the earth lists ever so slightly toward the next season. The air is not crisp but it’s no longer sultry. I inhale the sweet aroma of cattle. I pause briefly to listen to the corn grow. A cardinal chirps, and a gray squirrel scurries into the underbrush. A moment later a swarm of biting flies descends on me, Nipping and nagging like the morning headlines. I mount my bike and keep pedaling. I vow to endure until the news improves. -Dave Wright