Dance of a fairy

"Admiring foliage in autumn array,

I lay in repose, gazing up at the view…

I could not believe who was there on display!

Was I seeing clearly? How could it be true?

Up there in the treetops,

she twirled in delight as leaves whirled below her,

immersed in the fun.

A blue stage had emptied as one belle in sight

bedazzled the crowd like the rays of the sun!

Adorned in her pointe shoes with hair flowing wild,

she charmed inner child, this longing for free.

Pure grace in white tutu drew widest of smiles…

I’ll always remember when she danced for me. "

As I listen to her stories, I see how her face changes in hundreds of ways. It shifts from a face of a young girl, to a face of an old woman, from the skin absorbing the streams of light to the skin that drowns in shadows, from the eyes that contain endless tonalities of scattered colors, to the eyes in which the whole world has collapsed thousands of years ago.

As I see her walking through the woods, I feel her fusion with everything in the background. Her skin - the core of the trees, her hair - the curls of the dried leaves, her lips - the warmth of the streams, her eyes - the deepness of skies.

She is dancing now.

Her spirit was always dancing. She moves with grace, she moves with confidence. Her dance is essential, real, authentic, and somewhat hypnotic. She is the fairy of the woods, she is the woods.

She is the dance.