Two-wheel vacation rhyme

Urban cycling makes us curse in many tenses,
as we conjugate our rattled senses,
crossed by obstacles that cause misanthropy,
requiring urgent delocalization therapy.

Now rural two-wheel touring manages the stress,
heals our city phobias, illustrates how less
is more, while new horizons open up
— alternatives, perspectives – bottom up.

Life blossoms all around us, butterflies abound,
we hear the croaking frogs, the subtle sound
of swans that glide on serene waters,
and, with luck, see beavers frolic — even otters.

Cycling ushers contemplation, helps us listen
to the sounds of nature — when the sun is risen :
rustling leaves, brooks whispering, green crickets chirping …
Ah! What joy to hear the cuckoo and the merle sing!

We rural cyclists greet each other without reason,
sing and whistle everywhere and every season,
let our worries waft away in perfumed breeze
smile at skinny cranes and storks, fat ducks and geese.

We pedal past cow meadows, flowering potato fields
acknowledging the farmer’s hand and copious yields.
The curious goats amuse us, dappled sheep graze peacefully,
fast hare and rabbits hop in bush and heather merrily.

We cycle under hallowed planetree canopies,
along oak lanes and birchtree alleys – feel at peace.

(c) Alfred de Zayas
Noordwijk aan See, August 2021