I sipped a latte at Starbucks,decaf non-dairy.
and thought of tiny children dancing in periwinkle tutus,
ballet class late Thursday at dusk.
Tender arms curved overhead,
Little heels and chins lifted with tightrope-walk grace.
Inhaling, exhaling, breathing,
and wandering.
Wide eyes, open lips, graceful tendrils all swirling,
twirling around as they shift in the wind.
As if non-truth and truth
can be whisked, blended and steeped
Stirred into one as they dive, dip, and leap
soaring and spinning,
calling out
naming
each space.
No comments:
Post a Comment