suze allen

You peddle like crazy

on the rutted dirt road

to your cousins’ house

Throw your bicycle down

On the green-brown mud grass of April

The black metal handlebars

with the thick rubber around the ends

Slant into the soft ground

Point to the cumulus clouded blue sky

The top pedal spinning to a stop

As you race up the steps to the screened-in porch

Bang open the door

Ready to play, ready for fun

Ready to receive the joyous welcome

that rushes over you

grinning from ear to ear

What blast of possibility and imagination await you

In this non electronic day?

All day I catch glimpses of you all

run inside then outside

throw balls, collect moss and sticks

chase each other thither and yon

shriek and whine

giggle and grouse

Outside then inside

Slam goes the door, and you are out of sight

Still the air holds a memory of you

It ripples around the fresh daffodils in your aunties’ garden

Holds your ever moving arms, goosepimply from the brisk spring

Topples around the dead leaves floating up then down

To your dashing feet

Wafts the scent of your freshly washed

Faintly sweaty tee shirt

The island sun fades to gray

As do you

Now just a snapshot

a home movie

Your bicycle is every child’s to me

All the moments despite being full blown

of love

Drift off into our rememberings

Informing the cells of the future you.

And the past cells of my childhood,

My children’s…

As the bike lays on top of everything that is or was.

Inanimate yet full of life

lives lived with flashes of unadulterated joy.