Shut Up and Dance
Grasses green in summer rain
all Leprechaun like, and Irish.
Embryonic, they uncurl from sleeping seeds
that escaped spring black birds’
ebony eyes, lain like children’s
after-school strawberry snacks, secrets
that don’t get told at parents' tables.
Do these browning greens in golden sunlight
know their autumn days approach?
A time when falling colors swirl to lie
piled like slumber-party blankets
after girls abandon tussled beds
for outdoors' whiter winter games.
How these cycles dance like Latin lovers,
their Tango twisting passions sideways glance
at this blue planet as it spins, a dance through
forgotten dreams and starlit sprinkled space.
Here, I sleep, forget and wake again
to seductive songs of changing seasons
and hope I live to see so many more.
Copyright 2002 David Coyote
David's Website
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