Biking to the Green Burial Grounds

by Lorne Daniel

Borderline giddy, still breathing
heavily, we pull sweaty helmets off.

It was a good pedal up
to Royal Oak, the elevation at the end

catching us a bit by surprise. Quads,
lungs. We stand our bikes at the edge,

walk into the woods of the green
burial grounds, sit to contemplate

on a bench in the vigor of bush and bees.
We have chosen our spot or at least

the grove where, wrapped in cloth
shrouds, we will be lowered if we have anything

to say about it (and, having prepaid, we fully
expect some silent say). Odd, this energy

coursing so vividly today, flushing
flesh that will slowly take its leave, abandon

these boneworks. Today our whole
package of being can sit a moment

in satisfaction, before we kick
our kickstands back, ride away.

— from Juniper Volume 4, Issue 1