Sunday 29 September
By Parson Thru
Like a summer's day
- just as before.
I rode out to bask in the sun.
Sweeping from leafy Mendip lanes
down to Bristol's busy streets
coloured by Totterdown, Clifton Wood
and the pennants of SS Great Britain.
As light played beneath the trees
a band rocked the harbour in Hotwells
where the engine throbbed and warmed my knees
and a festival filled the floating quay
- a city under a partying sky.
I blasted a greeting from slash-cut exhausts
then skirted the Bearpit
leaned thru the buses
and powered into Stokes Croft.
Past the girl
with her books on her shoulder
swinging along with a song in her heart.
Past the red-beard artist
promoting his work on the Big Issue kerb.
Past cafes, bars and convenience stores
and the derelict canvas
of urban revolt.
Past plane-makers’ torn-up runways.
To the motorway
and on to the docks.
where ships leave their berth
to ride the Severn
and follow the sun
in exactly the way that they've always done.
And I think the bike was the first to speak:
"This’ll do, Kev.
This'll do us for now."
I smiled and leaned back in the seat.
We rumbled along without a care
and half a mile on
I looked down at the bike
- it was shining.