rodeo days

 

rodeo days

 

paper round then on to school,

 

if I wasn’t late

I could take the long way

over the hump-backed bridge

across the minnow stream

 

right at the fork along hawthorn lane

past the iron gates of the posh boys’ school

freewheeling downhill right to mine

 

early spring was pretty cool,

when cherry blossom confettied me,

but autumn, dodging falling conkers

skidding through piles of rusted leaves,

now that was really ‘up my alley’

 

trudging snowdrifts - singing hits,

That’ll be the day

It’s my party and I’ll cry if I want to

I wanna be Bobby’s girl

loud to keep out the cold -

where no one could hear me,

and say I was sissy

 

my voice broke with Do you wanna dance?

puberty meant the end of innocence

 

my debut? postponed… indefinitely -

‘Swinging London’ never quite swung for me

 

at school, others were kitted

from official outfitters,

 

I looted lost property

for caps, scarves, ties,

football boots, and socks,

vests, and plimsolls

for the annual cross-country

 

skirt the cornfield fast as you can

sprint the path by the army camp

lope along the riverbank, turn

back for home at the spreading oak

me in the lead – hear the crowd cheer -

first to the funnel…

the rest nowhere

 

school-masters’ approval smiles

lit my day – for just a day -

then back to shaking heads and frowns

I pretended not to see

 

scavenging cast-offs

like Cox’s cap from the ‘lost’ box

(his folks had 'plenty’ anyway)

summed my school days

better than reports predicting,

‘an amounter to not very much’

 

but my daily mile after mile

rodeo riding winding lanes,

fishing the Roding, climbing

Epping Forest hornbeams

singing my heart out

feasting the seasons

 

that was the me

for no one to see.