Pumping up and pumping down
Cooling breeze and passing ground:
Air sucked in to lungs that burst
To be sure I get there first.
But often, at a slower pace,
Warming winds will kiss my face.
I glide through nature, wild and free,
And wonder at the things I see.
Sometimes I wait, and stop, and stare
At little creatures unaware
That I am watching, oh so near,
But making sure I cause no fear.
Or pause to gaze at wondrous trees
Playing tunes on drifting breeze:
Marveling at the things they’ve seen
A century old, yet still a teen.
So get a bike and travel out
Use little lanes that twist about:
Look around, use brain and eye
Stop to ask the question: why?
Why have I not seen before
The beauty nature has in store:
For those who take the time to see
Free wondrous sights; for you, and me.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem