I wheel it out, my green and black bicycle The roads shiny and quiet, the grey skies overcast I start slow, breathing in the clean morning air The fragrance of wet leaves and mulch, moss and old trees
I hear the morning song of the birds And see the blossoms heralding spring I nod to the old woman walking her spaniel And notice the beating of my own heart
The rucksack a comforting weight My breath even and warm in the wintry air My derriere sore from yesterdayβs excesses The road, glorious, wide, welcoming and endless
Crossing the road, I am struck by the symmetry Of a lone tree, leafless, bare, proud, naked And the beauty of an old, stone church And the wheels of the cycle keep spinning
The roar of traffic on the motorway always a shock As I adjust, I breathe in the manure From green fields so vast, flanked by white And pause to see the muddy, turbulent stream
As I rack up the miles My heartbeat is a sledgehammer My legs are on fire And I feel alive