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POEM OF THE MONTH
The bike chain rattles round in scrappy circles,
wheels caressing tarmac with a gentle whir,
and the wind whistles in ears grown stale with silence.
Cars splutter out their apologies
as bird song once again claims its place
in the soundtrack of the quiet.
Brakes squeak, wheels clink to a stop,
and shows scrunch and scratch softly against gravel.
The crashing rush of water crescendos,
as though the ripples are rushing
to once again become waves.
Yet the gentle trickles that run in harmony
remind me that some will be lost
in this attempt to rejoin a community
bigger than itself.
I splash amongst the shallows,
relishing in the sound of the condensed sea,
wondering how much of myself
I truly recognise in my reflection.