Memories of riding my yellow bicycle from the farmhouse to the post-office, collecting the mail, just me, my bicycle, the curving country road and the bell-grass I can still see and hear as I ride. Sometimes a haiku from the past, becomes in the present moment, as real as it was then, a memory yet existing now too. A forever moment, a present moment.
small yellow bicycle
freckled face, leaning inward
against the weathered boards
All writing and poetry Copyright © Karen Coller 2018