the ground, it trembles. as if thousands of little feet trample its surface, rhythmically packing the hard earth. And none can see a thing. their eyes matter not, touch overwhelms their being. it caresses their necks and trickles between their fingers. it washes over them in undulating waves.
they dance, and they inspire danceβ in fire in gusts in light, filtered through wind ravaged trees and kitchen windows. which glitters entrancingly as it kisses the floor.