5 bikes, blue and pink and aqua standing,
red and silver laying in the grass,
and here is the family, up from the lake,
and on with their helmets, all five, and pedalling off,
a woman in lavender
reclines on the grass, her red-haired head
in her hand.
she's writing too,
one forearm in the sun,
the other in shadow.
her black bag's too large to be a purse.
perhaps she's writing a letter,
in deep communion,
unaware that she's visible