We were on the valley road
in the chattering crowd of the market stalls
when I suddenly looked up over the hill
where silence was pierced
by a single call like a whistle,
a buzzard I thought, at one with
the blue breach in the clouds
along a line of trees.
I kept gazing but I could see
only the skyline.
Then one more time the precise
needle of a sound, a keyhole
The breath of an eye.
A cleansed breath. Alert and quiet like
the unwavering candle of meditation.
You tapped my shoulder and said:
“ Let’s go, you won’t see it, it’s gone.”
I walked on in the strewing chatter
at the luminous gap which by leaving
Davide Trame, Venice, Italy