Run to the Coast

As sun etches out a charcoal dawn
Lending calm and muted light to mountain pass
and roadside praying wallabies stand firm
Counting cars and dreaming of the past

Down two gears and into corner roll
The gearbox screams, but I'm past there to hear
For the Darragh is a friend of old
And soaks away the now with weight of years

Trunk road 91, as sure as fate
Confuses both gradient and mind
Cave's ladder of light does oscillate
It twice takes us up, while riding down, you'll find

This down hills a primer, for return
T'will be like note within the stave
Boundaries met not bent into concern
Rather sweet music with lingered taste to save

The helmet purpose is to protect
A use I have no rush to have fulfilled
Instead I use it to reflect
And contain my joy in riding on this hill

Scrubby creek corner, now relax
Slowly rising up the gears and speed
But beware the ever-present kanga tax
For these flats are Eden for this breed

Myrtle mountain with lying Lyre birds
Contains elf like trails that omit return
Lyres always wait to be observed
Then disappear and leave, in place, concern

Last time this run was exposed granite
To base of the mountain top, at least
Now surfaced, it's no better than a sandpit
Loose metal, that rides as good as grease

But no mind, this is but life's fountain
And drinking causes simple pause for growth
For I've ner' been up or down this mountain
And had clear run from top to shining coast

The winds been withdrawn from my sail
And coasting I glide and just let be
Ahead the boiling heat has flailed
Leaves from stems, laid them like confetti

Which would not so move the poet
If that was all there was to see
But the scene was into motion flowet
A cars wake had mobilised dead trees

I rode down the now reclining Myrtle
Happy and much reduced in year
For my eyes still had the leafy echoes
That I chased with joyous, wondering tear