Forward and up

 

 

On this warm October morning of my birthday we take the dog on a walk.

There are hills and trees and dappled sunlight,

walkers, runners, bikers.

There is loud squeaking behind us,

and an old man on a very old bike passes us.

By old I mean older than me, for I am now 73,

and his bike squeaks.

John says he may be deaf and cannot hear the squeak,

but I think the squeak speaks.

As he goes up the hill he hears it saying

we are going forward and up forward and up

forward and up.