What opens with a dance tune perchance deflects into the reaction to a blow or injury, to a fly fisherman’s reel, the canisters of a movie, or even a soaring eagle. These poems span experiences of touch and coupling, however chaste at times, and of flight and emerging lightness. To be light on one’s feet, then, and light-hearted in the end, if not a little dizzy.
First, the snow a sheet of ice
shiny as cake frosting.
Then the Asian dental hygienist greets me:
“Sorry to make you waiting.”
Maybe it’s all in the skin.
A flourish we extend. A touch or care.
Excellence in a small thing, somewhere,
a note of gratitude or worship
placing everything in the larger context
of conception, especially through its monotonous stretches.
A few hours later, lavender mountains at sunset:
the Monadnocks, viewed from my studio window,
incredibly purple, even more than blue.
Sing. Dance. Fiddle. Doodle.
And away I go.
Poem copyright 2017 by Jnana Hodson
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