Like I’ve not seen
In many a year;
The riding-through-a-carwash kind
That makes paper bags of clothes
And sieves of shoes.
Blinding, drenching, driving warmth
From face and fingers
Streaming from chin and elbows
Arcing in graceful rooster tails
From sibilant wheels.
Rain that would keep
Anyone slightly sensible
Safe and snug indoors.

Not me.

Bring it. For in that roaring, stinging madness
There is a will
To strive and conquer
A strength undaunted
An iron grip
A laugh that echoes from the woods
And a peace I all too rarely find
When I look for it inside.

3 thoughts on “Rain

    • Thank you for your kind words. I’d never thought of it as ‘tragic optimism’ but I think that’s a very apt description. With your permission, I shall steal it. It took me many years and miles (and buying some decent kit) to develop that attitude to riding in the rain, but nowadays I positively enjoy it. There’s a kind of fierce pleasure in being out when everyone else is indoors. For the same reason, I make a point of riding on Christmas Day!

      • Do steal it. I didn’t coin that phrase btw. I don’t know who did, but Viktor Frankl uses it a lot in his book, Man’s search for meaning which is a positive take on existentialism unlike most of the nihilistic material out there. And you’re welcome.

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