The daily podcast – a poem



Not having the all surrounding headphones

I listen to the daily podcast.


As I tune in, I hear the first blackbirds

calling to each other from deep in the trees.


A child sings with his mother, and a parent

gently explains something

very important.


Couples and friends walk the path

passing the conversation between them.


The great tit in the Winston Churchhill Gardens

makes his mechanical music.

The magpie rattles  challenge each other

all along the way, and unknown birds

weave an invisible net of sound

between the tree tops.


The women who has shyly begun to acknowledge me

as we pass each day,

mouths

good morning.

I notice.


I hear the sluggish muddy little River Chelt

chasing into the culvert under the bridge

and the cars flowing fast, and slow.

My wheels turn, and the soft sound

tells me that I and my bike are one.

I, and the world, are one.

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