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- Poetry With Audio
- The Motorcyclist
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One evening, while sitting lost in thought
beside a small fire
under summer constellations,
I heard a motorcyclist racing on
a far-off country road
as if pursuing
something of great importance.
What could it be?
Why does he rush into the dark
with such intensity?
Could I be losing some fleet thing of value
as I sit motionless
beside this dying fire,
musing on
the swift descent of night?
One evening, while sitting lost in thought
beside a small fire
under summer constellations,
I heard a motorcyclist racing on
a far-off country road
as if pursuing
something of great importance.
What could it be?
Why does he rush into the dark
with such intensity?
Could I be losing some fleet thing of value
as I sit motionless
beside this dying fire,
musing on
the swift descent of night?
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