Canto iv

Low lying clouds

preside over stillness,

come slowness,

not quite a headache

but it’s teasing a storm.

A crow on the road,

guts spilled,

aches no more

in eternal solitude.

My body feels lethargic,

unwilling,

the mind wandering,

struggling to forget.

Rocks lining the ascendancy,

seem less forgiving,

as I push and push

through heavy perspiration

passing a dog-walker

bounding along merrily.

I reach the top,

riding more cautiously,

feeling less responsive,

turn into the descent,

dodging loose rocks,

uneven dips,

I begin to release

the brakes more and more,

beneath overhanging trees,

yonder the valley,

reach the steep dip

at the path’s junction,

very wet!

Mud paints my legs,

shorts, t-shirt and glasses,

hitting greater speeds,

hues of the forest blur

either side,

surrounding the sound of tires

over the bridleway –

mud, twigs, stones

a few jumps amid the rush

finishing through the stream,

back to the start

sweat replaced with mud,

and everything feels lighter.

The butterfly rests,

wings spread,

to reveal its even symmetry

unconcerned with the

business of ants,

the curiosity of flies

or the mystique of the spider,

bracken sways on a 

precipice among dandelions

and brambles,

here, grass overlooks

the peaks of trees,

far beyond

the firs – in all their secrets

disappear through each other

as they march over rolling hills.

2025 © Percival Alexander

Click here to read canto xi