Winter Dance

Winter Dance

Birds moving in the dead of winter –
where to?  Half the tribe
whirls towards the west, then
breaks with sudden panic, flapping

to an open tree; they mark
its naked branches
hot-house blooms forced open
or scarves that burst, unfurling in a magic trick.

Tuned up in loud plurality,
they once again alight,
some left, some right.
Another of nature’s children

caught so glaringly in their confusion?
Whose glare? What moves me in sync
with their confusion? What desire?
What winter dance?

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One Response to Winter Dance

  1. Vladimir Golstein says:

    Winter Dance is a great title. Caught between Heaven and Earth, Light and Darkness, south and north. Birds dance away, musing on those who flew to the warmer shores and on those who stayed to brave the elements.

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