by john clare
The Century was on as the grand Peloton pedaled away
The red flag drops as the clock was all our friend
We watched and waited for the coming tempo to begin
Who can hold the spin of hand at break of day?
Through the quiet countryside past the grazing cattle
Not a word was heard as all thoughts were on the road
The climb ahead to the devil's abode
In the tranquil valley they steeled for the looming battle.
Suddenly, jolted from wrestling the inner angels
A lone rider breaks from the coiled Peloton
The snake of men shift to try and catch on
To the heights of thin light singly they propel.
Roiling in the azure heavens time descends to toll
Wafting among the struggling cyclists he had his way
Plucking at will those the price unable to pay
No mercy, no mercy on the cadence lost souls.
But leaning low in the ribbon wrapped drops
One continues upward unfazed by tolling time
The devil chides alongside upon the hors categorie climb
You are mine! You are mine! I toll the time! Stop!
The clouds enclose and darkness obscures the way
Gales and gusting snow freeze to steel the clenched grip
Dim goes the light and the rider begins to slip
Has time and his minions at last won the day?
In a turn of squares in the lowest cog left
Ahead the faint sound of cheering amid a warm glow
Dance! Dance! Upon the pedals dance so slow!
One comes to pull you beyond the rocky cleft.
In the arms at last the cyclist is held so tight
You are mine! Well done my chosen weak one!
As the tears of victory fall downward and run
We behold the glorious end of the burning daylight.
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