Tuesday, March 3, 2015

The Motorcycle

He looks up from the black faceless
Expanse of road in front of him.
A foam plastic shell obstructs his vision
Enough to just bother him.
He lifts the helmet off his head
Leaving his balance to practice.
The cold molded steel under his body
Grumbling softly in response.

The leather seat
A friend eager for the wind
The handlebars
A path to glory.

The smell of pine
From the lumber mill
As it saws and saws
Under the night glow

The brush of cool air
On the flickering eyes
Now seeing the full expanse

The motor
A gesture of freedom
The body
A metal knife through the air




Our desert (haiku)

I look through photos Our life through the four seasons Back through the old ones.  Blossoming in spring With all the diverse flowers ...