Will you flit with me across the sky, and
Keep me close as clouds roll by
Will you touch my heart with moonlight, and
Melt my soul with a nectarine sigh
Will you dance with me in the ether
Will you caress me with your breath
Will you sing me a song of the sweetest Love, and
Hold my hand at death
Image by Stefan Keller from Pixabay
As the late Spring evening ambles to a close
The birds sing a gentle lullaby to the trees
An equally gentle breeze kisses the green-clad branches
Coaxing one final dance before night closes in
As stillness prepares to descend
All is at peace
All is well
Photo by Arifur Rahman Tushar: https://www.pexels.com/photo/silhouette-of-man-watching-golden-hour-805002/
“Would you care to dance,” said the tempest to the leaves; and dance they did, for they had no choice.
“Such grace and elegance in your movement,” sneered the tempest smugly, for his ego was strutting like a train-rattling peacock. “Of course,” he continued, “you do realise, don’t you, that you only move because of my power and might? Without me you would just rot on the ground; your dancing shoes would be redundant.” The leaves laughed mockingly at their tormentor.
“What’s so funny?” Demanded the tempest, feeling decidedly awkward and with his strutting reduced to no more than a distant memory. “Your foolishness is what’s so funny,” replied the leaves, trying and failing to suppress a snigger. Now the tempest was really rattled, “explain yourselves,” he demanded.
“Oh mighty windbag, foolish dancer, it is neither you nor us that moves. The only mover is consciousness and we are all but dancers in the mind of the observer.
Photo by Osman Arabacı: https://www.pexels.com/photo/autumn-leaves-falling-on-the-cobblestone-road-in-the-forest-19640865/
Author - Richard F Holmes 