Poem: CYCLING

Twenty four wire spokes --evenly spaced
carefully tightened --so the weight smoothly shifts
like lines of longitude spinning us through
another amazing day

Commonplace magic --is still magic
even when feet push pedals as thoughtlessly
as they step --(the arch curving as on a ladder’s
-----rung)
every movement as precise as fingers on keys
automatically playing a minuet

It is the mystery of physicality
the way the body accepts mechanical limbs
& the mind absorbs experience
A cyclist is a new creation
an earth-tethered bird --or waterless swimmer
making all things new

The kingdom of heaven is like a cyclist
rolling through an imbalanced world
No matter how common our perception
every spring --(our tilted axis coming around)
another child straddles the wonder
without training-wheels

(This poem first appeared in Wascana Review)