dancer's soul

"If I could tell you what it  meant, there would be no point in dancing it. " Isadora Dunkan


sun does not care if you get her scheme
she can be trusted to rise above the purple mountains
joining her sweet friend, wind in a gale of laughter
painting our winter faces ruddy red- melting

our cold countenance- gently slipping her warm tongue
across the icy mid afternoon january sky- causing us
to stop, praise and sigh-- for we are gravitated
to what our essence is- it's not extravagance

that takes us by the hand and leads us
to the promise land--but simple gestures
"oh i know you--i know that pain..
won't you come walking sometime"

there are trees we could gaze at for hours
and in time there will be flowers
we need not say a word
our soul in sleep does float

up through the branches of beech
and like a bird knows the proper time
for plumping the nest, getting restorative
rest- no agenda, choreography, only this

another day as a green glass pitcher
sitting beneath the huge grey beech tree
receives the rain, allowing passer bys
a small drink of heaven--and when

the skies fill with snow--each branch
receives just enough for postcard elegance
& not too much to cause a break
in beauty--beginnings burst open

in the song you remember from
a misty morning, one spring
when the yearling
was born singing

Kate Lamberg
1/24/13

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