treasure

June 8, 2024

When I came across this pic by Dave Wyman in the Ottawa Motorcycle Riders Facebook group in autumn 2023, I knew immediately there was poetry hidden in it.

I contacted Dave and asked if I might pair the image with an as-yet-unwritten poem.

“Sure.” He replied. (Some people are delightfully easy to get along with!)

“Great.” I messaged back. “I will wait for inspiration and then I will come back to you. It could be hours, days, weeks or months lol.”

Turned out to be months. Mostly because I totally forgot about it.

Anyway, here it is. Finally.

i scroll down the page
liking posts as I go
until a tree and a ride
throw a wrench in my flow

i stop dead in my tracks
arrested in space
by the light and the bike
and the look of the place

the oak clearly belongs
in the midst of the stubble
its branches like brambles
escaping from rubble

naked in autumn
it scratches the sky
while harvest remains
at its feet soon will die

the sun skinnies its shadow
down the length of the field
paints its bark golden hues
against clouds that are steel

but what of the harley
in its burnt-orange glory
how did it get there
and what is its story?

seems the glide’s owner
grew up next to the oak
learned to drive, read a map,
then took to the road

now he shelters nearby
come thunder and rain
in a house made of stone
not far down the lane

he loves the tree and the ultra
in about equal measure
now they’re captive in time
like some long-buried treasure

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