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Sometimes it is in the coldest of winter That I have this desire to release my will, To give my shoes a rest from their servitude, To test my toes 'gainst the Old Man's chill. Somtimes I go walking on boughs at night, Feeling the frost-covered bark with my toes; And learning the way of this intimate path, My night fancies fly on the wind with my woes. 'Tis often my wish to awake in the morn with A sparkling new blanket to greet me and cheer me. And I a grand treat find to spoil that fine fabric With dances to break dazzling crust til I'm weary. Then spreading my fantasy wings to the sunrise (Not feathers, nor membranes, but fine webs of whimsey) I stand on the tips of my toes and I reach toward The sky and the clouds and my infinite fancy. I run on my toes to the edge of a tall cliff And, leaping out into the expanse of blue, Leaving behind nearly unbroken snow, my Night dress flows, wild, taking on sunrise hue. A red from the morn, a bright Eastern flame, Colors my skins and shines in my hair; Dancing in my eyes, a terrible gleam, for This flight, this fancy, with you I would share. But alas, I can dance with you only in dreams, for A dream you are only; we dance in the blue. And whether my life's filled with wisdom or folly, 'Twill be filled with joy just from dancing with you. |