Dance Within

I cannot
sing,
so to syllables I go.
scattering sounds,
sketching something from a landscape within.
to reach
to be drenched
in fields, brooks, flowing clear among green
waterfalls of ice to liquid snow, flowing off mountain cliffs.

life wonderfully bright,
often
(more than I admit)
cold at night
yet there is star mixed with lunar light.

I hear within while I’m without,
in nature alone:

Be among the
simple things
natural things
dance within the breeze,
move among the sea,
sway beneath the forest canopy,
run under the bright cloud and warming sun.

so I move
almost dance

life is richer
when I allow myself
to become momentarily
poorer,
lavishly spending
fuller, more pleasurable moments
together.


By Jonathan McCallum

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