Birthday

yellow-red tulips, a coffee table with littered dope
two pills each morning: cipralex, multi-vitamin
with organic orange juice -
wheels spin, legs pump, knees hurt -
- so here is I end up, fetal, covered by my bike
a shiny grey hub rolls centimetres pass my head.

A big St Bernard pads well-meaning towards me,
A familiar embrace around me click
with the added pleasure of a head-injury.
Stress headache? Or the first tremors of something fatal?
A doctor chides me. Well, yes, I should have worn a bike helmet.

Her dark copper hair glows, powder-blue eyes shines .

So now I'm on the verge
winding a windlass, winding a windlass,
light grows from a door swinging slowly open

pull of comfortable cat fur mittens
grasping my trainers, clasping my arm.
"You know it's the right thing to do"
crops up as caesurii and I snap-to, ears pricked.

Her dark copper hair gleams.