ode to a bicycle

Just a brief post today.

Earlier this week a good friend of mine sent me an excerpt from Pablo Neruda's poem, Ode to a Bicycle. Here it is:

I thought about evening when
the boys
wash up,
sing, eat, raise
a cup
of wine
in honor
of love
and life,
and waiting
at the door,
the bicycle,
stilled,
because
only moving
does it have a soul,
and fallen there
it isn't
a translucent insect
humming
through summer
but
a cold
skeleton
that will return to
life
only
when it's needed,
when it's light,
that is,
with
the
resurrection
of each day.

Sadly, my bike has not been moving much this past week due to a rather nasty puncture that has yet to be fixed, and she won't be moving much this week either as I'm off to Montreal tomorrow. I hope she won't mind if I cheat on her while I'm away... I promise when I'm home to give her some much deserved attention.