A Dance of Seasons
My callused feet swept
the ground,
They touched down with
such grace,
Acting like feathers as I
spun around,
My arms, outstretched,
welcomed the world into
an embrace.
A serious dance told the
story of time,
My trunk of swayed
portraying the tale,
No words could describe
the events so I for once
am a mime,
My long arms are
branches and so very
frail.
Strings coming up from
my arms,
The wind is my
puppeteer,
Showing me the way and
all charms,
I whisper a secret,
thanks, to the wind,
although I know it didn't
hear.
A curl rebels and escapes
my bun as I pirouette,
Tapping out a rhythm on
tip-toe,
A complicated series of
steps sideways ending in
a first position silhouette,
I am only an outlinesky
against the paint-palette
sky set aglow.
The setting sun cloaks my
costume of tawny green,
My story freezes,
immortal and undying,
For all of nature and the
sky has seen,
The dance of summer,
fall, winter and spring.
