Being Homer

Clatter of stabilisers, whoosh of cars:
us returning from the shops,
North on Westview Rd.
The North shore mountains clothed in snow
to the ankles, chaste,
and now a lull,
and the chattering of chickadees and you,
saying “if I keep riding my bike,
I will have legs bigger than the whole universe”.
And the whole universe quakes.

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