Touring

[Johntee]

Touring

Half a head higher, seeing the future,

A marriage of faith in his control

While below the road uncurls

At Lenaderg a Kawasaki

Erupts into the stream.
Leans steep, turns for

The climb. Two up,

Black leathered.

She the pillion,

Flying a wing

Of foxtail hair,

Straight arms,

Muscles taut,

Hands a grip,

A triangle set

Perpendicular

To the machine

That, panniered, lays

Once more for the tightening

Bend. Unbidden Slán Abhaile crowds her mind.

[Tony Grannell]

Hello Johntee,

Leaning out of a 'Slán Abhaile' to the madding crowd, she, 'flying a wing of foxtail hair in this tour de force of speed and poetry at a bend in the road near Lenaderg. Great stuff. You are in fine health and happy, I trust. Fond regards, Tony.

[Johntee]

Yes, thank you Tony. On Saturday, driving on my way home in the middle of a series of bends a motorcycle pulled out in front of me. I hadn't realise until reconstructing the mental image to write this piece, that modern motor cycle design flies the pillion seat and has hand grips just abaft so the passenger can sit bolt upright, look over the rider's head and see what fate is coming up. No more hugging the rider's midriff.