Redirecting the Light

The binoculars
Rest so quietly
On the corner shelf

Accepting the dust
That settles skin cells,
Fine sand grains, dust mites,

It’s almost startling
To think the lenses
Are always working

No differently than
When held to your eyes.
Photons wander in,

Pass through, bounce back out.
If the shelf had eyes
They would see the world

As from the bottom
Of dolly zoom well.
Those lenses won’t quit.