canto xviii

Thoughts and memories cling

to aching legs and

sweaty pores

(did I really need a jacket?)

I reach the top

approaching the first descent

earnestly hoping the fog

of society’s clamp

quickly dissipates into the ether.

Along the trail

recent rainstorms leave evidence

in their wake – a scattering of stones,

amid endless bits of wood

strewn across the bridleway

like an asymmetrical obstacle

course, I weave and turn

down the mud-soaked path,

hitting greater speeds on the

final stretch beneath low-lying

limbs, through the stream,

resisting the temptation

of what looks like an

awesome tabletop

(maybe next time!).

I stop to check the

tire pressure, seems fine,

momentum lost – I see people

ahead – I push the initial

leg of my next ascent.

A young couple are foraging,

they smile and say hello as

I push past.

I get back on the bike and

ride up the woodland

gradient, at the top, I

am met by barking

dogs (thankfully, worse than their bite),

I casually ride by

while the owner yells at

them and politely apologises

for their noise and running at

the bike.

Reaching the road,

I pass two ‘Lycra-men’

while crossing the brow of

the hill, descending into the

next woodland adventure, convinced

off-road is a lot more fun!

Gliding down the meandering trail,

thoughts and memories loosen their grip,

as a kind of Zen takes

over, riding joyously all

the way to the stream by

the meadow, continuing along

the bridleway before stopping

by the river, seated upon

a rock, a small troop of

wood ants for company,

my bike leant against a tree

overlooking the water, on

the other side, a squirrel

scurries along a fallen limb

as a metallic green bug

emerges on my pad,

I continue scrawling to the

next page and find a

small spider has likewise taken interest.

Through the trees, an elusive

call emanates out of the blue,

above where autumn

gathers.

2025 © Percival Alexander