Thursday, 17 July 2014

Neon Poetry Day 4: Neon Draft-odils

Remember that behind every super hero sits a super seamstress. Neon Rider costume production is in full swing around here, and our house is full of colourful fabric. Today, we were even visited by the amazing super dog!



(Super dog’s powers include the ability to sleep for hours on end, superior cat-detecting vision, and obtaining belly rubs.)

Thanks to yesterday’s wonderful sponsor, I’m up to $260 raised for the MS Society. You can sponsor me too if you click this link and go to my fundraising page.

Today’s poem comes with apologies to William Wordsworth in particular and the English language in general. Enjoy!

I Cycled Lonely as a Cloud

That pedals high o'er vales and hills,
When all at once I saw a crowd,
A host, a peloton of draft-odils;
Neon by the lake, neon ‘neath the trees,
Slipstreaming along in the breeze.

Continuous as the stars that shine
And twinkle on the milky way,
They stretched in never-ending line
Along the margin of a bay:
A dozen riders saw I at a glance,
Cranking as if this were their Tour de France.

The waves beside them danced; but they
Out-did the sparkling waves in glee:
A cyclist could not but be gay,
In such a jocund company:
I gazed–and gazed–but little thought
What wealth the neon show had brought:

For oft, when on my couch I lie
In vacant or in Netflix mood,                              
Neon Riders flash upon that inward eye
Which is the bliss of solitude;
And then my heart with pleasure fills,

And pedals with the draft-odils.