Canto xi

Leaving the house, it

begins to pour. I

grab a jacket and

head for the woods,

STOP! The Country Bus emerges from

a hedge-concealed corner, I

turnaround into the layby,

the driver I spoke to

yesterday waves

as he passes by –

none of them

know

where it’ll stop

Monday.

I reach the foot of the

wood, after unsuccessfully

trying to keep pace with

‘Lycra-Man’ in front.

I am determined to ride the

whole ascent but as I reach the first

corner of the climb

I lose momentum –

not so much the angle,

rather the terrain of

loose rocks – more so,

post the rain. I

push some of the way,

return to the bike and

make good distance up

into the forest, low gear, leaning

into the bars, turning

to avoid the notably uneven

ground while trying to

keep momentum, sweat

pouring through my helmet.

The air is cool beneath

the trees, not too humid

and the wood ants seem

decidedly cloistered today.

Riding the descent and I

immediately notice more hazards

as a result of the rain

though it does not slow me

a great deal –

mainly the sharp turns

with loose rocks,

no deer for 

company today.

Riding through the stream at

speed, over the

waterlogged trail – mud splats

my face, mouth and up my nose!

I jump off a rock,

my foot comes off the left

peddle though I keep

balance while speeding down

the wet trail towards

the stream at the bottom.

Another jump into the bend

as I ride quickly

under low-lying branches,

before the final ‘splash’

at the end – soaked

in mud, dwelling in a 

beautiful lightness

as I gear change down,

reach the road and

start the next ascent.

Moving slowly up the hill,

I see a woman walking

ahead – she moves gracefully

beyond the trees, disappearing –

out of sight.

My legs ache, I have

to get off and drink some

water, dry the sweat from

my face, wipe the dirt

off my glasses and check

the bike.

A short pause, I push

some of the way before

riding the next

hill running adjacent to

the road. I hear no cars

though I pass a dog walker

near the top, her cheerful pooches

ever curious at the bike.

I reach the top, the

road is clear so I

move into the next descent,

building speed, I

revel in the rush gliding

over the trail into its

steepest gradient, maintaining

velocity anticipating the

jump – this time I nail

it, achieving some real air!

Reaching the corner I ride

into the stream

whoooosh! Feeling high,

I’m torn between riding on,

I decide to break by the

river. I rest the bike and

dry the sweat, yet more

mud to clean from my glasses.

In the solitude of the meadow,

I listen to the river song,

looking up, I see a

bird of prey circling

as a grasshopper casually

crawls up my backpack

placed in front of me.

I look again and both

have gone, though I can

hear the hopper’s relatives among

the dandelions and sheep’s fescue

behind, while ahead

a bee visits a purple

bud gazing solitary amid

the tall grass.

I feel something 

crawl through my hair

as I look up to witness

a return of the feathered glider,

above infinite

secrets harboured beneath the trees,

it hovers patiently.

2025 © Percival Alexander

Click here to read canto xviii.