Creations

Bicycle Poem

I saw him – the grandfather – helmeted,
Cycling the length of out short-cut street,
Both the basket in front and the seat behind
Empty. I saw, not the emptiness, but an entire
History, including love, including the grown
Child who sends him on his errand. The bicycle
Moved out of view, the window became
Brick stacked upon brick and the only thing
Moving and alive was the lorikeet, less bird
And more an incarnation of colour and light.
Returning he was dogged and leaned forward
In his seat, the child behind him both pleasure
And weight. The child was the one at ease,
The ride neither a memory of the classroom
Nor the future of home, but a street
Linking the two, in which every object his eye
Perceived was both familiar and without need.

~ MC