Riding a bike for the first time for forty years

Not a bike to boast about, it had one speed: forward.
To stop I back-peddled. But hey! it was a bike,
no one was looking, and every downhill minute was wonderful.

RIDING A BIKE FOR THE FIRST TIME IN FORTY YEARS

jacket-wings flying

upheld by pedaling feet                                          

I am a bird
a victorious Icarus
feathers metal-held
spokes blurring

I soar over the cliff top
on a golden chariot
drawn by four beasts
bear, lynx, coyote, eagle

reins lengthen along their backs
through a breath of cloud
beyond the turning-circle of planets

and I am gone
gone to Never-Never-Land

pirates vanquished
lost childhood found

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Poem-of-the-Month in Long Story Short September 2009