The Dance - Poetry

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We lay face up in gentle summer rain.
It runs as tears along our faces.
Our bed, sweet clover
And soft Earth's aromatic grass,
Mere mortals, cloaked
with perfume of the gods.

As twilight tickles amber night
We stay on;
Holding tight to rumor,
Or each other,
That tree sprites linger here...

Fireflies enter with their dance
Reflection in your eyes
Their's, a sacred game.
I hear a deep, sweet aching music...
It's our hearts the spirit
Brings fine tuning.

Who knew the ageless beat
Would lift us from our feet,
Or bring a minstrel playing
To set our bodies swaying
With warm winds and falling rain?

A timeless band of players
They warned of this madness
And mystery of night,
But here we play,
Entranced by rain drops,
Hearts once severed wild.

I look again but I'm bathed,
Touching tangible magic
Cleansed by wonder
Far beyond this life
Once again
There's just soft whispers
That a world of possibly
Can wash the heart of night.

Janelle Gregory

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