Up the track, uneven stones wobbling under my wheels,
past the Maltings, chaff on the air, rumbles within,
hawthorn like popcorn made with the lid off,
open field to forest (keep an eye out for raptors),
downhill to the bench, gravel crunching,
birds flying out from one side to the other,
flat hedgerow to the tiny road, over the road, through the gate
one foot on the ground to steady me in the curved gap.
Cows on the right, cockerel crowing somewhere,
over the main road, listening hard for traffic,
braking at the combination of a turn and downhill
then flying, no pedaling until the bridge,
past the tree where we saw the white squirrel,
magpies riding on the mixers at the water treatment plant,
village on the left, field path on the right –
halfway there, halfway done, halfway home.