Summer Cycle

and what of all the girls who never rode a bike
who never felt the passing wind plant kisses on their cheeks
who never got to speed down hill, flying free and birdlike

who didn’t ride through inky streets, headlight glowing – moonlike
what gave them joy on summer days, some book in ancient greek?
and what of all the girls who never rode a bike

who never slipped along a stream to watch new hatchlings, spy-like
who never pedaled all the way from home to Mozambique
then sped downhill, back home again, flying free and birdlike

what gave them shivers down their spines or made them giggle, childlike
did any comet, moon or star make them want to shriek
and what of all the girls who never rode a bike

what made them turn to face the sun, as it was setting, flowerlike
who found in books, some world of words, of wonder and mystique
but never got to speed downhill, flying free and birdlike

while I am cycling streets and lanes and gravel alleys, catlike
and jumping logs and chasing frogs along a creek
and what of girls who never rode a bike
who never got to speed downhill, flying free and birdlike