The cyclist

Cycling
silently
behind
a silent
cyclist
I watch him
from behind:
silver helmet
neat
beige pants
pale green fluorescent
ankle straps
pale pinstriped shirt
blue and ballooning
softly
in the wind

slowly he cycles
old-man-like
patient
and in no hurry
but when I almost
catch him
as we reel
down a hill
I see
the shining thickness
of his pure black hair

And then
before I can
capture
his elegant eagle’s face
he turns
to vanish
down a quiet street
into the hidden treasure
of his life