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
into vastness.
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
and smiled
at the luminous gap which by leaving
we confirm.
Davide Trame, Venice, Italy
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Davide Trame is an Italian teacher of English, born and living in Venice-Italy, writing poems exclusively in English since 1993; they have been published in around three hundred literary magazines since 1999, in U.K, U.S. and elsewhere: “Poetry New Zealand” , “New Contrast” (South Africa). “Nimrod” (U.S.) and “Prague Literary Review” among them. His poetry collection as a downloadable email-book was published by www.gattopublishing.com in 2006.
I very much enjoyed this poem. It leads you in and then slows and goes and leaves you knowing and not knowing at the same time what you might or might not have seen.
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