On and Off

Twice a year I pump deflated tires, run a cloth over the dust, maybe even oil gears if I have thought ahead. Mostly though, I react to it on impulse, remember all over again why bike riding in Ohio (for this climate sensitive Englishman), can only be done in Spring and Autumn when the State rests between an Ice-age and hells steamy kitchen.
Copyright © | Year Posted 2022

Poem

Post Comments

Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.

Please Login to post a comment

Be the first to comment on this poem. Encourage this poet.

Get a Premium Membership
Turn off ads, get more exposure for your poetry, and get more features with a Premium Membership.
Book: Diverse Voices: The Poetry of Human Rights and the Pursuit of Peace