Poezja

(after Thom Gunn)

A far off hum breaks the noon time silence,
rumbling thunder
of a manmade kind draws near, grazing cows
pause in wonder,
swallows, some in wheeling flight,
nesting under
a highway bridge swish about in some fear,
as some oncoming danger they do hear.

Men and women sit astride motorbikes,
with legs touching,
in almost a solemn intimate ritual,
everything,
even their black helmets, leather jackets,
is vibrating
to the essence of acceleration
of being in powerful forward motion.

With each other they are most intimate
and personal
as in unison they drive, they throttle on;
impersonal
beyond black visors, jackets, pants and boots;
emotional
they act, are a sheer force riding robust,
their uniforms are covered with dust.

There is some great joy, a sense of freedom;
the wind and sun
are tugging at the very centre soul,
with unknown fun
as they past in perfect control of speed;
as they are one,
with nature in a sudden kind of bliss
that some view as being utter reckless

Man, woman on roaring machines against
gravitation
becomes something more than mere human
intimation,
they are together travelling to their
destination,
next to the road the cows graze at the fence,
the swallows chirp after the inference.

[Reference: “On the Move” by Thom Gunn.]