sight smell and sound

I rode hard under the May Day moon,
I banked steep
I leaned low
I rode and rode and rode.
The nocturnal damp was imbued with the
scent of moonlight and honeysuckle.
The orange full flower moon
lit the fields and glanced off the tree leaves.
The forest canopy, a rural skyline.
Straight, open pipes ripping the pristine silence of the night
with 1100 cubic centimeters of music.
Quickly past, peace is left
in my aural wake in the moonlight

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