MondayIII July

The Bike Ride

I grew up in a place where trees tickled the sky.
Where leaves spun green haloes,
Choreographing dancing shadow below.
In Spring I saw nature yawn,
Buds breaking filmy skins
And spreading multi-coloured wings.

Things that grew beckoned to things that flew
'Sit a while and sing'
Pollen dusted the breeze.
The world was a kiss.
Where twilight blushed with
Sundown’s promise.
Spring copied bliss.