On The Great Lawn of my mind,
The city's biggest dance floor,
Upon its cushions, stepping lightly,
The spring breeze, feeling its way,
Making, reawakening, a thousand acquaintances,
Absent parent kissing each long-lost babe-blade of grass
Breeze takes each blade of spring grass:
Cajoles, asks not,
With windy hands, guided missiles,
gentle/firm
push/pull
engage/ disengages,
open/closes
Breeze makes each one
Neck, caress their neighbor,
A thousand pas de deuces of
fresh faced green children.
All in all a triumphant processional,
Cloaked in robes of sky blue velvet,
Crowned by the sun's burnt orange kisses.
At the middle school dance,
The walls are portrait painted
with the shy ones,
The ones-who-don't-know-how-to-ask.
Passover's children
Needy for a Moses.
Student of the spring breezes,
This silly earnest teacher/chaperone,
Grand-pa-rent will:
Cajole, ask not,
With hands, guided missiles,
gentle/firm
push/pull
engage/ disengages,
open/closes
Under his tutelage,
Every boy and girl
A dancer, a blade,
Each a Passenger on the fuselage
Of his Spring Ballroom breeze.
These are my spring rites
imagined,
Visions of my sight
unimpaired,
Present and future
clarified.
Soon we will teach our own
Little Princes and Princesses,
The shelter of dancing,
Feel the embrace of nature,
Under the mantle of an
A Capella choir of tree leaves,
We will lie side by side,
Skyward pointing,
Sharing our spring-sprung imaginings,
Performing each and all
Upon the breeze to carry away,
For all to gleeful applaud!
Sep 14, 2013
Sep 14, 2013 at 9:22 AM UTC
On The Great Lawn of my mind,
The city's biggest dance floor,
Upon its cushions, stepping lightly,
The spring breeze, feeling its way,
Making, reawakening, a thousand acquaintances,
Absent parent kissing each long-lost babe-blade of grass
Breeze takes each blade of spring grass:
Cajoles, asks not,
With windy hands, guided missiles,
gentle/firm
push/pull
engage/ disengages,
open/closes
Breeze makes each one
Neck, caress their neighbor,
A thousand pas de deuces of
fresh faced green children.
All in all a triumphant processional,
Cloaked in robes of sky blue velvet,
Crowned by the sun's burnt orange kisses.
At the middle school dance,
The walls are portrait painted
with the shy ones,
The ones-who-don't-know-how-to-ask.
Passover's children
Needy for a Moses.
Student of the spring breezes,
This silly earnest teacher/chaperone,
Grand-pa-rent will:
Cajole, ask not,
With hands, guided missiles,
gentle/firm
push/pull
engage/ disengages,
open/closes
Under his tutelage,
Every boy and girl
A dancer, a blade,
Each a Passenger on the fuselage
Of his Spring Ballroom breeze.
These are my spring rites
imagined,
Visions of my sight
unimpaired,
Present and future
clarified.
Soon we will teach our own
Little Princes and Princesses,
The shelter of dancing,
Feel the embrace of nature,
Under the mantle of an
A Capella choir of tree leaves,
We will lie side by side,
Skyward pointing,
Sharing our spring-sprung imaginings,
Performing each and all
Upon the breeze to carry away,
For all to gleeful applaud!
Another old one
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