The Seeker

A Meta-Cognitive Journal About Writing… Plus Other Stuff

Three Poems About Winter (#2)

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Since running outside has been pretty much impossible given the horrible conditions we’ve had for two months, I’ve been making time on my bike on the trainer.  An hour-long ride each week has been enough to keep up my stamina, and watching some Netflix while I do it makes it at least tolerable.  The poet in me wants to find the deeper meanings in this and other mundane activities.  Writing this poem helped me to that exact thing.

This was another fun one to write as I labored to figure out what the activity really meant, and what the poem was going to say.  I picked up something from studying Kay Ryan and made use of it starting in the middle of the first stanza, and I borrowed from myself with “Frost crackles and creeps up the window glass.”  The closing lines aren’t quite doing what I want them to yet, but here they are nonetheless.

When The Old Man Heaves Snow At Us by Jeff Burd

I jack my bike up on the trainer
and take long rides to nowhere
right there in the living room.
I hunch over the handlebars and
pedal.  Sweat rivers down my chest.
I pedal.
My legs are young again.
I sit up and ride hands-free
because why not?
My tires hum on the asphalt
as I fly past golden wheat
waving in the wind beside
the long, shallow-sloping
roads of last summer.  The sweet
smell of ryegrass hangs like perfume
over fields striped with windrows.
Cows raise their heads in time
to see a blur of a smile.

The thermometer outside is
a vacant tube.
Frost crackles and creeps
up the window glass.
I can’t outride it.
I can only ride through it.

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Written by seeker70

March 1, 2014 at 1:09 am

Posted in Uncategorized

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