Sunlight strikes back from virginal brickwork stinging the face and drawing blood from eyelids,
Bright red occults yellow,
Once green foliage flashes against cheeks now flushing like a near heard closet,
Radiant pavement climbs calves and under shorts,
Warming buttocks whilst flowers try their blooms in ones and twos,
Little wheels on hard almost smooth grains grind;
"Why shouldn't a boy ride his scooter?"
Monoped propelled,
Gripping soft warm plastic,
Lungs work the blue whip-lashed above as houses open to whispering grasses,
Hairs prickling,
Occasionally jabbing attentive sentries breeze,
Along the silver steed bounds to sniff a stream and bear off until sandalled feet span both worlds;
"Why shouldn't a boy ride his scooter?"
Sudden penetration marks the point like time of departure and shouts its warning inside ears smashing into the heart,
Straps from a ruck-sac rub chafing against the siren call,
Hold waves and juggle in the mind a dance of sparkling bright against obeisant hills,
Residencies turn their visages away inquiring within of empty vessels;
"Why shouldn't a boy ride his scooter?"
Pushing off,
Beating quicker now upon the path bestrides water flicking up splashing cool,
Real scents struggle through the low-laid miasmic impatient curse of man's division,
Rattling truly as graveled sand crashes beneath nature bows and sways,
Touching gently grazing flesh;
"Why shouldn't a boy ride his scooter?"
Slowly rising,
Reaching to the azure vault woodland offers a deepening embrace,
Beginning to jazz zipping insects hum moistened air,
Breath comes more expansive and nutritious,
Under shade a chance to stop,
Dismounts and rests against a welcoming trunk,
Leans the mount the same;
"Why shouldn't a boy ride his scooter?"
