I occasionally wake in the night with a poem half formed in my head. I usually get out of bed and write them down but do not turn on a light in case I disturb the household. The poem in this post came about when I was sat in the dark writing and yes I did see a man on a bicycle wobble by.
the muse calls me from my bed
to sit in the dark and write out my dream
in wide spaced words on blank white paper
its 4:30 am no car goes past outside
then wobbling in the tail end of the storm
a man weaves along the road
no lights on his bike I note
and from the way he steers
no exact idea of where to go
he executes a sudden turn right
and when I look up again
I take in the emptiness of the night
I think it works as reportage, but I am unsure of the final line [although confident enough to use it as the title of the post...]. Your guess is as good as mine as to where he was going to or coming from.
Midlake have a new album out. Seems pleasant enough, though I've only played it twice, but I do miss their glory days with Tim Smith.
Until next time.