'And so, the Poplars-pair, lanky and beautiful, in their newly-sprung green, now fully clothed, danced in unison....' Photo: by Mitchell Griest on Unsplash
The dance
Poem by Dorothy Lindsay
Not like Matisse’s ‘Dance’, as Touch
for now, is merely a hopeful thing,
and for them, not a dancing ring
of five; nor, it seems, just
communal friendship,
but something more:
a longing to embrace, but never quite
achieving that closeness.
This Dance, not by the hands
of a creative genius, but by Nature’s
own, working like a puppeteer,
perhaps with a smile, because
her hands working up that breeze,
also paint the sky deep blue, causing
much splattering of the day,
with brightness and heat.
And so, the Poplars-pair, lanky
and beautiful, in their newly-sprung
green, now fully clothed, danced
in unison: forward and backward,
sometimes pausing, when only
their leaves move gently; some,
their green glaze much lighter,
where the sun hits brightly.
The pair’s heads and shoulders,
romantically coming close to touch,
but never quite there; not today,
but perhaps on another, the hope
for Touch will become reality.
