TT Moon
Like sardines bikes fill the ferries, the air thick with fumes.
In the backstreets and the villages, they're renting out their rooms.
Campsites pop up like mushrooms, as if by magic overnight.
The cold dark skies of winter, give way to summer light.
A tingle of expectation, a shiver of nervous fear.
The island holds its breath, it knows the time is near.
Drawn over by a TT moon, wave after wave, on every tide.
They roar ashore with one desire, to ride and ride and ride...
King Orry 2016