Trundling in the Sun

 In the Spring sunshine, the lightest of breeze chases
the cyclist along familiar roads, the windrush in the ears.
Still in cool weather gear, full gloves, as we
head uphill.  Panting.  Wheezing, just a little.

Up towards Lambhill, then along the High Kype.  Past
Deadwaters and round Greer Hill, down into Sandford.
Back along the Low Kype, the Roman Road.
Whizzing down to Gilmourton, the childrens’ school

which started them so well.  Two classrooms,
three teachers.  Endless memories.
Another loop to the ride, legs still working, a bit left
in them yet.  The Meadowfoot circuit, steady climb.

Then the steep one, up to Drumboy, and recover
the breath, before Rough Diamond.
Loudoun Hill, those big, bare crags.
And following the path of the River Irvine

between the bike and the hill, there’s a chorus,
above.  Honking and chattering.  Formation flying.
Eighteen in the flight.  A whiteness of swans.  
And I cycle home bursting with joy.  I will miss this place.