Sunday, April 17, 2011

The Sirens of the Motorcyclist

Through the fog I hear the horns
I pry my lids open and the fog evaporates
The horns are the throb in my temples
From the pain that jangles my ribs
Then the thunder begins
And I think “what now?”
But it’s the motorcycles passing
Below on Forest Road
Like the Sirens of Odysseus
It’s the rumble of engines
That lure me to full awareness
I’m resolved to recover
And rejoin the world
As I know, with the first breath
Of crisp spring air,
Nothing can keep me sidelined
Away from Blaze
And the open road.

I was privileged to hear David Surette yesterday as he read his collection of poems at the MWG meeting. His poems are like no other, and appealed to me. This attempt at poetry is a result of his inspiration.

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