Night Camp Under Timber Beams

Killed the engine beneath the wide overhang of an old timber rail shed tucked off the mountain grade. The smell of cold pine and damp cedar settled in the dark as the twin cylinders clicked down their heat. I unhitched the canvas bedroll from the blue cruiser's rear rack, carried it inside across the dry plank flooring, and spread it out flat against the corner out of the mountain crosswind. Pulled my tin canteen, took a steady drink of cold creek water, and set my pocket knife on an overturned timber crate within reach. The bike sits solid on her stand by the open door. Good roof overhead. Time to shut my eyes.

1 Nauk