Prelude

The first steps of leaves

are always fumbling, unsure

Buds spread in every direction

The fine fuzz of birth slowly hardening

into a firmer and less innocent shell

This is the beauty of spring:

it is always somewhere

someone’s first dance

into the sun

The beauty of hope

I love the starting dance steps and the final steps and all the steps in between.


For more dancing, metaphorical and otherwise, my fantasy novel, The Guests of Honor, is available here. Its sequel, With Honor Intact, can be found here.

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