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Dark Park
It’s the middle of autumn, and the weather is definitely changing. The leaves have mostly fallen from the trees, and it’s been cold and raining for the past few days where I live. I thought I’d write something about this change of seasons—but in a slightly unexpected way.
This poem starts out as a simple bike ride through the park, but things take a strange turn once the weather begins to shift. Here is…
Dark Park
I went for a ride
on my bike in the park.
Some clouds started forming.
It quickly got dark.
The rain pounded down
as the wind began blowing.
The weather turned colder,
and soon it was snowing.
I shivered and shook
as a blizzard was forming,
and thunder and lightning
were suddenly storming.
I tried to escape,
but my bike wouldn’t go.
The wheels were both frozen
and stuck in the snow.
I jumped off my bike
and ran out of the park.
The sky was all sunny,
not cloudy and dark.
It’s really a puzzle
why out here it’s nice,
but inside the park
it’s all snowbanks and ice.
I’ve taken a breath,
and I’m counting to ten,
preparing myself
to go back in again.
I might sound insane,
like a crazed maniac.
I don’t really care, though—
I want my bike back.
— Kenn Nesbitt
View all episodes
By Kenn Nesbitt
4
1010 ratings
It’s the middle of autumn, and the weather is definitely changing. The leaves have mostly fallen from the trees, and it’s been cold and raining for the past few days where I live. I thought I’d write something about this change of seasons—but in a slightly unexpected way.
This poem starts out as a simple bike ride through the park, but things take a strange turn once the weather begins to shift. Here is…
Dark Park
I went for a ride
on my bike in the park.
Some clouds started forming.
It quickly got dark.
The rain pounded down
as the wind began blowing.
The weather turned colder,
and soon it was snowing.
I shivered and shook
as a blizzard was forming,
and thunder and lightning
were suddenly storming.
I tried to escape,
but my bike wouldn’t go.
The wheels were both frozen
and stuck in the snow.
I jumped off my bike
and ran out of the park.
The sky was all sunny,
not cloudy and dark.
It’s really a puzzle
why out here it’s nice,
but inside the park
it’s all snowbanks and ice.
I’ve taken a breath,
and I’m counting to ten,
preparing myself
to go back in again.
I might sound insane,
like a crazed maniac.
I don’t really care, though—
I want my bike back.
— Kenn Nesbitt
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