Morning dew, morning sun
Looking out on the morning run
Past 'Byers Keep' ’n' fields of wheat

'Shurlock row', 'Glebe farm'
Watch out little squirrel I mean you no harm
Sound of rubber coming from the tyre
Past the ducks, the stream, field ’n' 'Blantyre'

Beads of sweat on my forehead
I look up and smile
At one with nature, leaving a busy world for a while

A poem for cyclists with tech.

When one is by-cycling,
And the wind is anything but charming.
The direction that doth wind blow
Is the SAME as on your Garmin.

When one is by-cycling,
And the wind propels you like a teen.
The direction that doth wind blow
Is OPPOSITE as what’s on your screen!

Clothed up to the max
I enter the garage to mount my indoor bike tracks
On a digital road we drift
As we press Go on the biking game "Zwift'

Ride fast, ride free
No need to watch out for the tree
As the game takes us on a journey
Hey "ride on' there's Bernie

The sweat builds to a stream
I race on in my digital dream
Watopia world provide us with freedom
A place to gather, a fellow biker's Eden

I want to prepare food for you,
Chopping leeks and secretly dropping coriander into the pan,
I know you say you don't like it but you never notice and it really adds something,
The radio sings and fills the spaces between the smoke and steam and my thoughts,
I shout you alright, babe?,
You shout what?,
I walk over to the sofa holding a beer you chose and move towards you,
Grow towards you, lean over and press my cheek hard into your neck creases,
Your pulse thrumming through me like a train,
I close my eyes tight and think of all the times I was desperately alone,
In dark rooms in my mind,
Shall we cycle our bikes to the river tomorrow? you whisper into me,
Your breath warm and sweet,
I add salt to the dinner and you pull out a map and our days and nights are woven together by you looking at me looking at you.

Nothing matters,
Faster, Faster,
I pedal away,
To a bright new day.
Gives me wings to fly,
Every terrain I want to try,
Also chase the blue sky.
With the fresh open air,
As it messes with my hair,
I cycle everywhere,
In the woods, on a street or cycle track,
Here, there and back,
Up the hill I huff and puff,
Going up is tough.
Oh,what freedom!
Like the joy of stardom,
My mind crystal  clear,
Lots I discover as my bike I steer.
Round and round the wheels go,
In the sun, rain or snow,
Every moment I relish,
Never to end I wish.
18/11/2019.

Soma that seeps
flowing
like little creeks
sprinkling
off the edge
wetting
a tongue outstretched
watering
wilted flower beds
feeding
that pretty head
cycling
arid to wetlands