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Caught far away from home
Lost in the twisted webs of the land
A turn, a sprint,
Racing the setting sun.
Daring Sol to catch him,
He races 'cross the land
Racing, flashing past all others;
The sun descends
Home approaches
Nearing the finish
Nearing the climax
Near ..
The race is lost
The sun is down
But the excitement remains.
I was a dozen kilometers from home on one of my usual bike routes. The poem says the rest.