her morning walk seems
a spiritual experience
head held high
hair coiled on top
silver wisps floating defiantly

she keeps her routine
in enduring manner

some think her air aloof
indifferent

they do not look
into the shimmering eyes
or
notice the serene smile
they do not see
inside her head

where she dances
where the music plays

they only see her lively step
as one to keep pace
with the petite fawn terrier
seeing him
as her only dance partner

they are wrong
she has many partners

she dances with the breeze
she dances with the birds
with the clouds
with the sun
and
with the moon

on these crowded city streets
locked in her memory
duplicated
and
played back
in complete detail

she dances
with the foaming, crashing ocean
and
the verdant mountains  
mist hovering above
she dances
with giant oaks of the forests
and
meadows filled with scarlet, gold,
white, and amethyst wildflowers


many think her lonely


they are wrong