There is a young woman with a wooden hoop

almost as big as herself – and a small dog

not much bigger than her head – who performs

circus tricks, where Terez Boulevard meets

Andrassy Avenue – named for an Empress

and a Count before old Europe fell apart.

As the three lanes idle at red and the dog

waits on the kerb the girl and the hoop

become an astrolabe, a gyroscope

within the interstices of traffic lights.

When she stills and bows to the varied windscreens

the dog leaps to her shoulder and together –

dancer, dog and hoop – they approach their rewards,

ignoring the anonymous tourists

crossing behind her, as if the corrida

with steel and engines were all. Yesterday,

though a slicing wind from the Danube

kept most windows shut, she gyrated

regardless. Today in snowflakes like

falling stars she spins still.