Late evening summer ride

A familiar shadow follows alongside.

I know it is me, because the

shirt is vibrating in the wind

and white noise fills the ears

and insects smack against cheeks

and smells of summer vegetation

and wood smoke and petrol

and burnt oil against the exhaust,

garnish the machine gun chatter

of the single eighty four millimetre

bore and ninety millimetre stroke

firing at every lamp post,

and for a brief moment man, machine

and road are phased in perfect rhythm.

John H Davies

26th June 2011