A Bicycle Song

Climb on your wheels,
salute the early sun,
attack the hill then glide on down,
this time is yours,
these breaths your own to take,
this is your course, this is your way

You will be free
in every challenge
and you will feel
your heart’s balance —
you’ll know it’s real
by how the wind embraces you
all down the trail, all down the day

You may not understand
how you are mixed in this,
what planes are you,
which are illusions,
but you will move
along the lines of what is true —
that’s how you’ll know,
how you’ll know you.

©Wendy Mulhern
June 25, 2017

Early Morning

bike at Brackett's2

The sun, delaying its delivery
of promised strength,
drifts through a spread of casual clouds.
I doubt it will affect the day —
just my cold hands, in this brief moment

But it’s too early to be sure —
Sometimes the sun will gather more —
Whole sky-fulls to attendance,
drawn as they are, no doubt,
by its warm kisses,
Unconcerned (as are we all)
about their shadows.

©Wendy Mulhern
May 30, 2014

 

Biking Philosophers

sparkles on water

Well, she said,
Perhaps we’ve given up
on solving all the world’s problems
before eight o’clock in the morning.

Yes, I agreed,
In our maturity,
we have determined
there is no solving things
for someone else —
The only place
we may have traction
is with ourselves

Later, as I watch the swath of sparkles
spread across the water
underneath the sun,
I think: These sparkles are a dance
between my eyes and the bright light —
They engage and spin together
in the nexus of perception

I will come away dazzled.
The light will keep dancing
with each living thing that receives it.
We’ll see it sometimes,
and not be aware when we don’t.

©Wendy Mulhern
May 14, 2014

Photo by Heather Mulhern

Leapfrog

leapfrog2

I play leapfrog with the bus
down 15th Avenue —
It stops for passengers,
I forge forward,
sometimes coasting, sometimes climbing.
It’s not my choice of game,
dwarfed, as I am,
by my opponent’s size

Somewhere along the long climb
up to 90th,
I sense it must have turned,
leaving me to the scent of lilacs
and the quiet waving
of the backlit grass.

©Wendy Mulhern
May 7, 2014

Intention

beach road trail2

You’re on the path, she said.
That proves that you will meet your goal
As surely as the bike path goes
along the water, from Oak Bluffs
to Edgartown. You can be certain,
as soon as you have turned that corner
(past the town and the wide green park)
that you will get there

For that’s the strength
of your intention
and your work will deliver you,
steady as pedals,
sure as the asphalt trail
to where it’s clear
you want to go.

©Wendy Mulhern
April 23, 2014

Companion

When I ride
you are with me
You and I together
float above my sight to the left
embracing
while the beach scape
rolls out beside us
and the morning clouds
white after their metamorphosis at dawn
look on
And I feel the satisfaction of togetherness
while my legs pump up the hills
And it’s a shared experience
the way the wind pushes
at my face as I glide down
arms now spread wide —
a well-earned flight —
I take you with me
so your heart will know me,
so our hearts
will recognize each other from afar.

©Wendy Mulhern
August 30, 2012


Beauty

(From the biking philosophers’ notebook)
 
Something compels you
Perhaps the way a substance
moves beneath your fingertips
and you can mold it
Perhaps the interplay of laws
as seen in intersecting ripples
Perhaps the strength of structure
and the genius of form
You must engage with it
You have to notice
 
Or maybe it’s the summer-long progression
of how a seed pod forms and opens out
Maybe the way a person thinks or moves
Maybe the tracks of time, the marks of history
Or the recurring changes through each day
 
No matter—
When a thing calls you
and you follow it because you must
And you throw yourself into the quest
to really master, really grasp it
And insist on holding on until it changes you,
You bring forth beauty.
 
©Wendy Mulhern
August 17, 2012
 
 

Imbolc

I wrote this poem on a bike ride near the beginning of the month, when an unusually balmy few days appropriately heralded the seasonal return of the light:

Still water of the winter river
Deep moving but surface smooth
Clear reflection with a subtle shimmer
Brown, bare trees thrust into blue
Moon ghost floating in a cloudless sky
Sailing low, so pale, alone
Bikes and skaters glide on by
Through air that’s soft and warm — sun owned
Its scent enticing us to dream, to yearn:
A day to celebrate the light’s return.

©Wendy Mulhern
February 3, 2012



Bicycle Soliloquey

Fog turns thought inward
While vapors collecting turn my arm hairs white
And touch my face like many small kisses
This I want:
For all my light within to signal
From the source that it reflects
For me to see in other mirrors
That same light my heart collects
For it to radiate in splendor
So each mirror bearer knows
How much glory we engender
How intense our essence glows
I want it more than owning
More than praise
More than knowing
That I’m held in someone’s heart
(Tempting desires that always disappoint)
While being lights together
Satisfies my need forever
And fulfills
Hopes I never fully dare express
Unity, collective happiness.


©Wendy Mulhern
August 27, 2011



A page from the biking philosopher’s notebook

– for Jennifer

As it is written
In the paws of a dog
In the sudden life arc of a spider
Things come to being out of thought:
From the imperative of their intent 
They come to life
Stretch forth in being what they are
Without a thought of being something else
And everything about them—form and function
(As paws that twitch and dream of running, digging)
Enacts that impulse which has brought them forth
And brings them forth again in every moment.

In the ephemera we call this life
Where things and plans dissolve so fast
Like dreams
Some thought that runs
Much deeper than our conscious mind
Calls forth a force
More steadfast than it seems
That orients our being to its course
Aligns our lives with our desires
And pulses us through underlying pattern
Our hands, our thoughts, and everything we are.


©Wendy Mulhern
August 11, 2011