The daily podcast – a poem
6th September 2019
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
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,
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.