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Dance With the Wind
by Jane Lang

Pirouette, fourth position
a dip, then fifth
vaguely remembered,
orchestrated by a demanding
ballet mistress beating time
with a long, slender stick
piano counting cadence

A wind-blown tracery of a leaf
landing soundlessly among mossy
rocks like a feather lost by a hapless
bird looking for bits of food —
scurry of wings as it heads toward a
leafless tree, its shabby wind-lashed
nest, nearly uninhabitable

No adagio for me, no boy
tall enough to match my
height, yet I continue to twirl
in the wind, hum the overture
Swan Lake, my entrance
my prince as we jeté towards

Just as the brown bird, I've given
it color though know not the
sex, is carried on an upward
gust, the wind-blown tracery
of a paper-thin brown leaf,
flying effortlessly, like an
adagio left unperformed


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