Apropos of my plans to ride cross continent on a 1978 Honda Hawk motorcycle:
The Boy and His Horse
The boy courts the horse one day to play;
Once bound, hooves flake ground and he atop, attached
Hawk fingers gripping mane, legs press’d.
Through gulps of wind the boy whispers, Yes.
Four legs stretch over open plain,
Cracked marble columns at their backs:
Together they clear high above walls
And go as far as the beast and boy are willing.