129. Un giro sol

Dawning on me

there are eyes staring back;
that what I thought was
vacant air is
occupied
by eyes and a
soul

Startled,
I am caught in a strange
reciprocity
and idle musing is
no more

Here
for only a slice of 5
minutes, it impossible to say
more, to do
more

Yet it is precisely
this impossibility of a
mutual stare,

resounding through the
lutes of centuries
that fill our minds with
perplexed obsession and
our hearts with
unexpected
longing

Dark stranger on a
spiralling bike:
snow-tipped tree leaves shift their
skirts
and uncommon beauty
glints in the
dappled light;