Young Summer As I rode my bike poem by James Nicosia

Young Summer
Like other immortal beings did–
I heard the sound of locus buzzing,
Smelled the fresh cut grass,
Felt the warmth of the blazing sun
As I rode my bike past that square,brick
That immovable-block with broken glass panes–
Indestructible, unchangeable.

Rattle! rattle! rattle! bounced my bike
Over the narrow, hard path
Between the iron rail and creek bank.

My eye caught a boot–down the stream floating.
I could barely keep up–but what fun trying.

A robin interrupted–
Summer had arrived,
And the air had not a care,
Only the vibration of now.
James V Nicosia