LEONARDO'S BICYCLE—a love letter to Da Vinci
We followed the old farm road past blue chicory,
and smiling queen Anne's lace,
to the gravel knoll, with tall grass between us.
Leonardo's bicycle was a two-tone Schwinn Phantom Deluxe,
the spring fork most-famous balloon model.
"Quite the exquisite Cantilever frame with tank and horn," he said. "Handsome whitewall tires and extra-wide chrome fenders."
I nodded, but saw only the broad reach of his face, and color rising on harvest grapes.
The leather saddle seat fit the man that examined the world.
"We'll take the turquoise streamers," he said. "I'll ride the green and black. And for my friend, the radiant-red model, more vermillion-black."
"A token gift," he insisted.
"Add one saddlebag for his vellum journal, charcoal, and looking glass."
"And rosemary focaccia," he smiled.
We pedaled faster to where birds perched on the high wire.
"Why the line of steel hung in the sky for miles running?" he asked.
"An equator divides the globe, and a lightning bolt carries the news of feast and famine."
"And god-wars that ruin the planet."
I went riding with Leonardo today.
He drew many spoked wheels and flying machines.
"Fly with me!" I said "It's not your volo strumentale, or divine engineering of human flight,
but with arms outstretched we can glide hands-free."
Paired hawks quartered the countryside.
"Isn't it marvelous not having anything to do but play?"
"Across the great divide..."
"Maestro, why does her free smile enchant you so?"
"She is my child, brother, mother, father, sister, lover, aunt, and uncle, too,
the Mary of many and the Mary of none,
and the geranium if a white flower wore a face.
Mona Lisa is the breadth of space remaining after we've each taken our share.
She is what moves sitting silent,
the bright prism held within the rainbow,
listening and the telling,
the seed of thought and action,
the unborn babe I sketched by candlelight, asleep in the womb,
and the edge of darkness where moonlight illumines.
She is youth and decay, love and abandonment.
If ere I dreamed and loved I do evermore.
She is the greater giving and the evil hoard.
She is warm and sweet and fragile.
And that is why I love her.
For her fears spring from the grotto birthing mine.
I've been robbed a few times—Mona Lisa stays with me."
I went riding with Leonardo today.
He drew many spoked wheels and flying machines.
—G. Brunini
1 February 2021
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