Three Poems


We pedal our three-wheelers

in concentric circles

on home lawns

and parents applaud.

We grow strong calves,

balance and speed,

and the sweet-talk

of wind in our ears

silences parents’ warnings.

We glory on racing bikes,

invent beacons,

plot trajectories to bliss.

We push away from boring bike lanes

to new grounds, thinking

we climb the untamed.

We grow up, claim our acre of land,

grow roots, acquire four-wheel vehicles.

The children get a dog, and we,

memberships, tenures and mortgages.

We spin on stationary bikes

until we slow old, mosey on

into retirement on a tandem bike

that we will trade for second-hand tricycles.

Once again, we ride in circles.

Grandchildren slalom on the paved alleys

of our old folk residence.

They cheer us on until the sun sets

and it is time to go home.

Once Verdant

In twin m