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Trundling Along
Fields swayed with golden rye
As on my bike, I trundled by.
A gentle breeze cooled my brow
As I passed some languid cows.
Some lay down, chewing cud
Some sought shade, where they could.
The searing sun stilled the air
On I rode, without a care.
Through the sun drenched countryside
Immersed in nature on my ride.
Sweet sweet music, cheered me on
As little birds sang me a song.
Then a fisherman I past,
His arms aloft in hopeful cast.
On gossamer line his fly sped out
A tempting morsel for a trout.
I gave a wave, then on I went
The sun beat down without relent.
But oh, the joy of a cycle ride
Through the English countryside.
No fairer day could be had
What could a heart be, but glad
To trundle verdant country lanes
On and on, in happy vein.
Copyright ©
Gary Smith
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