Red, Of Course.

Three full-on winter days

On the cold-wind, monotony yard

Feeding cold blue flames

With colder fuels.

Need to check out

My situation,

My options …

Heading down the grey brick road

Heading to red sunset salvation dreams:

A place in the lottery queue;

Chance to compare journeys, calendars, champions, clocks;

Chance to find pattern and rhyme in random lines and concrete blocks.

Breathe shiver-deep, consider the numbers and companions that

Got us here, the histories that come together now –

In these magical moments …

Sometimes in order to see ahead more clearly

We have to look, hard and long over shoulders:

Chance of a ticket to be there

When we get to face the glory trials,

Stand on the way that other followers have stood

Ready to paint the next steps: red of course!

Nike’s Angels.

Steel skeletons,

Scales of carbon grace

These day-bright dragons

Have geology’s patience

As they rest in squat-mode

They preen and purr at

One another, at shadow-clones.

Then, launched by a flash,

They growl orange and white,

Green and monster-black

By the first split-second corner.

In this fierce black-top fandango,

Sitting on the shoulders of every bend

Nike’s endorphin angels

Are urging you on.

Defiant speed and dare-jester balance

Are appropriate respect for tradition’s heroes

And the tomorrow-champions.