It is the weight of a feather, a turn
Of the head, the lean difference between
A moment of beauty and an instance
Of sinking apathy, the dancing flame
Burns still the next minute and all seems lost
When she moves into the darkness, reborn.
The hard rhythms of music inspire
Sharper angles, unpredicted profiles,
Rapid breathing. In one slow turn she owns
All my perception, all of my senses,
And like a leopard I lie very still
In wonder of all that is possible
Aching to spring into pure ecstasy
When she moves out of the darkness, reborn.
Photo Credit: © Andrei Sajenko | Dreamstime.com