If you’re shelt’ring from the cold,
Covid, . . . other things beside,
If you’re warm upon the couch
Watching TV, huddled up inside,
Come along into the bush,
Join with Wee Will on a ride
Through the bracken and the trees
Found in Margate’s countryside.
There were . . .
Lewis from old Lindisfarne,
Glenda from a suburb north,
And Carl from The Blackmans Bay,
Joining Wee Will, the fourth
Supascootateer to decide
They would happily go forth
Along the George Burrow’s track,
As they surely did, henceforth.
The track’s beautiful and smooth,
Just winding through the bracken.
Gum trees towering above,
Enhancing nature’s garden.
Perfect time to photograph
Scootateers as they’re passin’.
Wee Will pulled off to the side,
When . . .
Without warning, all of a sudden, . . .
Wee Will flies through the air,
And to the ground he clatters.
Never mind his bloody leg,
His pride was now in tatters.
On many trips he’d lead the way
But that no longer matters,
As this fall had really shown,
A record quickly shatters.
Back wheel hit a hidden stump,
And its balance on the brink,
The machine spun off with speed.
Will’s view began to shrink.
The ground came rushing upwards
Much quicker than a wink,
It happened so very fast,
There was no time to think!
His phone flew from outreached hand
To skid across the track
The scooter toppled sideways
No time for turning back!
Wee Will landed on the ground
With a loud resounding thwack!
Gazing at the sky above,
He just lay there on his back.
His friends all rushed to help him,
Hauling Wee Will to his feet,
Stared at the little tree stump,
Surprised that it could unseat
Will from his Supascoota,
Much faster than his heartbeat.
His friends did patch his bloody knee,
Four bandaids worked a treat.
Bro. Nick believed a roll bar
Would have saved Will from the fall,
Perhaps a set of airbags
Would protect his knee and all.
But that’d take away the fun,
And perhaps the wherewithal
To tumble headlong in the bush,
For all those watching to enthral.
Usually. . .
In situations such as these
Wee Will has a perfect plan, –
He extends his great long legs,
Like outriggers on a trimaran,
To maintain himself upright,
If the Supascoota ran
Into unexpected trouble,
Traversing the terrain.
Now . . .
Wee Will lies awake at night
Pondering on things to come.
A Supascoota Sumo
Sport will give him more freedom
To explore the coast, to go
On bushland tracks, with wholesome
Air a coursing through his lungs,
But, . . . waiting is burdensome.
June 26 2022.