The Dance

A view of my shoelace,

widened and clear like a flaxen sun,

bent in the bridge of cool summer.

I have been here,

the rock is rough.

I hear dancing,

smile of another.

I went in the children’s chatter

to where the air feels warm

and waits in pockets

for the dancers’ push.

There my eye widened

on another journey;

I will follow, join the dance,

these fingerprints are mine.

Your invitation

passes like a shadow

whose wings are wide.