Gloved hands hold cold handlebars,
low sun pattern plays with spokes,
I slowly cycle, over-taken by cars.
Berry bunches blown off branches,
hazelnut husks clog road gutter,
pigeons wire-balance, taking chances.
I dismount after thirty minute cycle,
background traffic sonic insistent,
laneway birds sing morning recital.
dew on long verge-grass lingers
bramble snags yoke-coloured scarf
thorns puncture ungloved fingers.
I text foraging photo-shot,
close-focus, berry stretched hand:
rapturous, instant reply got.
tin-pot bell tolls faith over fields,
three-box-full, hedgerow fruit –
homeward go with knapsack yield.