without a hope of sadness

on an overcast morning

with a sharp wind,

I set off on my bicycle,

turning my face to the weather

I wait for the tears

to well and then to water

tracelines down my cheek.

though I recognise gratefully

this weepless state –

a life of enduring happiness

with sleepy rhythms and

forgiveable misdemeanors,

days with only the record skip of disappointment

and occasional jealousy –

some days

I miss the sob and the moan.

By Eleanor Jackson

Eleanor Jackson is a Filipino Australian poet, performer, arts producer, cyclist, writer, gal about town, feminist, freewheeler, and friend.