On The Bikes Poem by Nassy Fesharaki

On the bikes

Is middle of winter
-clouds are all barren
-light grey and rainless.

No snow on ground
-no trace of any icicle
-nothing as we call "Ice"
-everything has melted
-not even slight rain.

So, many men, women
-are sitting on their bikes
-in line and side by side
-stepping on pedals.

Want to say: "In old days
-things were good, far better
-everything organised, in place
-winter was winter and
-summer, fall came in time! "

I brake, keep the tongue
-in mouth, where it belongs.

I recall the flood,
-in harvest of summer
-at start, little rain
-on the peak of mountain
-soon after the rocks rolled
-with trees; killed village…

Man cannot fight the nature,
-or God if he exists…

We are weak, unable
-let's take one at time.