Election Day and we go nervously through
the business of the day casting a vote the few
moments in the voter’s booth over and done
in a zip and a wink and all that’s left is a hope
that Good will out, a thing the other side wants too
each believing the opponent is terrible and once
again I think of living elsewhere, Canada Scotland
should things go horribly awry.
Framed on my wall hangs the black and white photograph
of a dancer dashing with plucky aplomb, feet bare
head tossed back looking ever up and onward
one arm akimbo, the other flung gracefully back
her short dancer’s costume flouncing flying behind.
An impulsive purchase on my part a thing that symbolized
my spirit at the time, my plan to throw off my fears
send my hopes and wishes out into the world
to see, once and for all, what might come.
And so I have done, with that unknown dancer
on my bedroom wall reminding me of that
devil-may-care frolic that lives inside of me
and wants to come forever out.
Slap happy to see him she
threw her arms about his neck
reaching on tiptoe to do so
every wrinkle of the past smoothed
temporarily out with the sheer surprise
the childlike guileless smile spreading
without thought defense or hesitation
the happy upturned edges of her mouth
plumping up her cheeks like a baby’s
the eyes, their four eyes and likely
those of all who watched feasting on
the details each of the other and all of it
just all of it with the sensation of standing
beneath a cool waterfall tumbling over
washing away every speck of dust and grime
filling their very pores with a tender freshness
giving Hope to everyone looking on.
The merry month of May dawns cloudy and rain soaked.
I love the turn of a calendar page the newness
the fresh start the who knows what of it
as time continues on spinning itself out
all shimmery full of promise and hope
another month neatly packed away
a new one shaking out its folds and wrinkles
ready for the party that might be called May.
Or June. Or July. One can always hope.