The Chariot, a poem

THE CHARIOT

(From the Granny Jones Australian Deck)

Oh, Granny, rattling along, your three-wheeled bicycle
Once a sign and symbol of your eccentricity
Now has its clones amongst the Green-Conscious.

Oh, Granny, the road behind you rocky
And you without the popular electric engine.
Cats sleep in the bike basket as you ride.

Oh, Granny! The path ends
At the colourful gypsy caravan!
What will you do, where will you go then?

Are the hills with their copses of trees
As smooth as they seem? Are the Three Birds
against the sun showing you the easiest way?

Oh, Granny, the rocks are behind you;
But behind the deceptively smooth hills ahead
Are the sharp peaks of savage purple mountains …

(c) Nisaba Merrieweather, 2009

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