Little Cyclist

So easy to miss her Dad in front

as she rides behind in a pannier.

Hard to miss her little hand, though,

stretched out to point imperious.

‘Dad, quick now, will you look at that!’

Now there’s a cheerful passenger!

She was chatting away with a friend,

invisible and inattentive,

who needed a poking finger’s help

to be sure to join her in noting

the pup scrambling up for the horse trough

with dribbling jaws and paws agitato.

She’ll call it Toby perhaps.

Maybe she wouldn’t expect a butterfly

to land delicate on her finger

but I would so gladly supply one

and have her call it Emperor.

Her hard hat wobbles

she sings a song

her Dad joins in,

delighting, deep.

Bryan Podmore