♥♥NATURE’S DANCE♥♥

NATURE’S DANCE

There, a streak of dawn light

just glimpsing over the horizon

breaking into the first brink of life,

          and would lay across the

                             pond’s still surface,

a sheet of perfect, laser glass

gifted from a generous,

new-birth sun.

Expanse complimenting an

otherwise empty space

hovering above eerie mist

                   the type that hides our secrets

and our frozen hearts,

                   forming its vaporous body

                                      to compete with fluctuating

shadows seeking valid form, wafting like

athletics in electric air.

Am I apart of this, or merely a

spectator to nature’s dance;

and I’m clumsily aware that

I just happened here, to a concert

that started

                   long ago without

my being there.

Welcoming me, as it were,

now that I’m here.  I think

                   being mortal means

different things to different people.

To me, it means the stars,

          the concerto of breaking

day, doesn’t need me to

open beautifully into

          the song of a waking robin.

Where gymnastics of dark and light

intermingle like tamed fire.

And an ocean’s retreat or a tornado’s

          unwelcomed screams

doesn’t need us to perform

their rituals of eclipse

                                    and equinox;

Only reacts when we attempt to

re-direct its meaningful course,

                             twist its velvet message

or re-write its ancient story.

Why is it we want to interject

our infant babble,

                   our cruel interplays,

slice her painful bowels with curious,

                   insatiable fingers…

Is it we’re not ready to admit

we never were nature’s

                             inspiration,

                                      its catalyst.

It’s the other way around.

Were we ever its rightful Caretaker?

It wanted nothing in return but our

acceptance, our distant admiration,

                   to let it be as it always was

                             and always will be….

its own beautiful, dancing,

                             mysterious and

                                                lonely thing.

´¯)*•.¸♥♥¸.•*´¯)

© Susan Joyner-Stumpf