Sitting across in the whirlpool
Is a blind man
Although he must be aware
That I am there
He begins to sing
As if no one is near
I listen without interrupting
Then he reaches across
To stretch his leg
On the stairway
His toe is two inches from my body
He resumes his song
An improvised melody
Without lyrics
Part of me feels intruded upon
And another, grateful
Of this stranger’s
Silent gift

— © Abraham Menashe