Notes from a Harley-Davidson

Just rode down the coastal route
from Portishead along the Severn.
Tide in, sun falling
in a warm clear sky.
Welsh mountains across the way
darkening from gold to purple
haze their towns
along the water's edge.
Ships in the channel
throbbing
ride the ebb to open water.
While indecently verdant woods
recline on folded hills.
The smell of fresh rain
somewhere
cools the air like spearmint.
We live in a beautiful place, my love.
All that's missing is you.