Bench and Bike

A bike lay snug against the shrub,
companion to the bench nearby,
The one held down with shiny bolts,
the other soon to roam elsewhere.
But in my mind the two entwine,
the bike and bench I saw that day,
strolling through the Aistear
above Mountshannon Bay

The neat simplicity of wheel.
Two simple circles, black as pitch,
resounding with the trelliswork
of rugged black around the seat.
A kingdom here of creatures strange.
Two-headed fish with horseshoe shapes.
A serpent eye meets swirling tail
and lithely interweaving leaves.
No straight lines here, a dazzling mix
of shapes that curve, turn, fold and bend,
incline to touch or shimmy back.
An undulating fantasy
in glossy metal black.

Curved too the wood, no piece the same.
The story of each knot and ring
I sense beneath my fingertips
and stretch to lie as on a bed.
My arms and calves extend below,
stroking all four sculpted feet.
I marvel at this complex art
which yet provides a simple seat.

And when the lad or girl returns
to mount the bike with casual ease,
I'll wonder were they in the class
that worked the wood and made it fit
so smoothly in its sturdy frame.
A worthy bench on which to sit.

© Celia Donoghue