I like to ride a bicycle, but not very quickly. I savour the precision of every crank of the pedal. I nearly lost my life two years ago and find time well wasted in anything I do, no matter how trivial. A bicycle ride is a grand way to put sense and meaning in the ordinary. Poetry naturally evolves after 30 kilometres on the road.
|Sunday in Britannia Park|
published in Bywords.ca December 2004
reprinted in the Bywords Quarterly Journal Volume 2 Number 4 (Winter 2004)