Love Poem: Folk Dance in Hillerslev Village Hall

1502034329222

Once when the wandering fiddler
played his polka dance
at the YMCA party in Hillerslev Village Hall,
I danced with Anne,
until we felt the floor
disappear under our heavy feet,
and we almost flew away in the night.

We danced across the fields
like puffs of winds that caused the grain to crack.
We swirled indistinguishably
as dancers emerging into the dance itself.

We had become transformed
by the vibrant vibrations
of a rarely felt magic
in our stomping clogs.

4 comments

Skriv et svar

Udfyld dine oplysninger nedenfor eller klik på et ikon for at logge ind:

WordPress.com Logo

Du kommenterer med din WordPress.com konto. Log Out /  Skift )

Google+ photo

Du kommenterer med din Google+ konto. Log Out /  Skift )

Twitter picture

Du kommenterer med din Twitter konto. Log Out /  Skift )

Facebook photo

Du kommenterer med din Facebook konto. Log Out /  Skift )

w

Connecting to %s