Bird Shadow Dancing

staring out the car window

spit snow hardly a ripple

in the pond of thoughts

swirling to no particular

rhythm when suddenly
my eyes go all disco and

the focus fights to find

its locus as dancing spots

make their away this and

that around, across, on

the road’s paved face

and after the moment of

panic for a woman no longer

young wondering, worrying,

if this is what blindness

will be like, might be like,

floating, random, dancing

spots – and then she looks

up – briefly laughing at her

own foolishness, so ground-

bound – birds upon birds, 

flying, floating, swirling,

dancing on the wind of

their own imaginings, unmindful,

in the way of birds, of the 

fuss their presence creates for

the earth-bound ones below

Days of Women

Sitting on the front porch talking and drinking in the night sky and remembering and laughing and falling in to silence . . .

Going bowling as a group because she, the one leaving you, wants to – and having fun . . .

Dancing on her front yard right there in front of God and everybody – these minister ladies – with the music from the van cranked loud and feet bare and hands waved to bemused passers by . . .

Gathering yourself to the two women at the sign board at the airport, seeking comfort as much as information when the plane is late . . .

I have long enjoyed the solace and presence of my own kind, we are good company.

A Place Worth the Standing

Standing in the middle of the fire

there – in Spirit land – there,

where God dances – whirling

dervish God who spins

planets and hearts

into a tale worth the telling

a life worth the living

a place worth the standing

Dancing into Morning

With morning

comes the lightness

the diffuse

creeping dawn

gently announcing a new day

Happy knees will still bend

arms still raise

I bound from the bed

and dance into its embrace

for a moment

and then I surrender

back to gravity

falling into the warmth

that cocooned me

in the night

Bed