Oh to dance! One feels that all of life’s little defeats
might be packed off to boarding school to do their
mischief far far away if only there were dancing
wild and true from the very core of one’s being
heads thrown back hatted or bare in wild abandon
dancing of the variety that invites all to close their
weary eyes throw off the heavy coat of inhibition
and under the night sky draw down the lights of stars.
The law of impermanence states that everything changes
the curve of the river the child the flower the state of grace.
Approaching the bluff today I, crestfallen, saw that the
fantastical dancing man, the luckily shaped branch of a fallen tree,
was gone, not just broken off but completely missing, no trace of him.
Only yesterday I’d rested happily in the thought that the woods are
ever changing, always fresh, rejuvenated every season, every day.
All well and good until the dancing man disappears without so much
as a by your leave, my dance card lying empty in the palm of my hand.
Her brain was addled
from too much cake
(so they said)
though anyone knows
that cake will go
straight to your toes
(instead of up top)
and make you jig
dance til you drop.
She licked the crumbs
right off the floor
held up her plate
and asked for more.
Now she lives atop a tree
pining for you, waiting for me
waiting for anyone (truth be told)
who will bring her a cake
(she has a heart of gold).