Evening Dance

In the soft light of dim and distant stars,

To an orchestra of crickets,

We danced.

 

In the wood smoke scented night air,

Settling gently with early autumn crispness,

Holding a faint edge of winter’s blade,

We danced.

 

In the gentle sway of hips,

The soft brush of lips,

The low and murmured conversation,

And the comfortable silences,

We danced.

 

 

The world danced with us.

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