Push. To the top
7 degrees on a half wheeled tractor
seems like nothing
but on two wheels
7 degrees is everything

At the top, perpendicular woosh
speeding down, knowing glance, but
knowing what?
Pity? Envy?

Going down has its perils
a single rock or
thoughtless door
sends you tumbling

We are all going up
or coming down
Pushing past or
looking ahead
for danger

But going up
or coming down,
is always better in the bunch.
Friend or foe doesn't matter,
the bunch turns
pushing and looking
into flying