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 dance—
in fire
in gusts
in light, filtered through wind ravaged trees
and kitchen windows.
which glitters entrancingly as it kisses the floor.