Author’s note: Is it bad that I mostly wrote this after a bike ride nearly a week ago, with some editing and additions over the next two days, but didn’t post it yet so that I could do final edits in the sauna, so it could belong to my “sauna sonnets” collection?
Twenty
Twenty miles per hour may not seem too fast
When you're accustomed to interstate speeds,
Or when one lane view fills with tractor vast,
Or when an ER visit is your need.
But on road bike, lemonade stand spied,
It gives no time to consider barter;
"Sorry, I didn't bring any money,"
Words lost in the wind? But how I replied.
And on a road bike, familiar face eyed,
It gives no time to consider ardour,
Before the road calls, "attention, Sonny!"
Attempt to determine face I revised.
Future me: be more free with hand waves cast;
Have lemonade cash so sale may proceed.
Thirty Five
Thirty five miles isn't far by car,
By motorcycle, or carbon-based horse.
Road bike though, it raises the bar by force.
I've got lemonade cash for some kids' jar;
Exterior paths of urban lake take.
Lo! A lemonade stand I surely found.
Lemonade downed, to entry point I'm bound.
Exit lake, for a scenic view make; break.
Young dark haired woman on street corner stood.
I stopped, drank, opened snack (just shy of good).
"Here Bennie," she called out to dog just passed.
Her look, voice, familiarity hast,
Dots connect as down walk she runs not fast.
One lesson learned, the other, failed indeed.
Copyright ©️ 2024 H.K. Longmore
Musings of a Kunderian Monster 