Easter Sunday, by Adrian McRobb

Four miles left, thighs strain in energy sapping pre-cramp tension 
tired and sweating, spokes flashing like silent movie sprockets 
not expecting, in my path...a line of runway aircraft resting 
a stained glass wonder, surprise on a sunny day 
Star-Wars comes to Bedlington, V-Wing fighters explode 
in a galaxy of colour, red-mauve-magenta-orange-purple 
a nose full of magical fairy dust...butterflying cloud, unfolding 
fluttering by, disappear into a wonderful sky-borne miracle...