Dancing In The Sunlight
Dancing In The Sunlight
A fog lifts to expose
a morning sunrise
she is as naked as the sea –
she twirls in circles –
her hair drapes along her
back, lifts up, and away
from her shoulders with
a gentle – gust of wind.
As if she walked across
water, her legs lightly
touch sea shells; shells
caught between her toes
as her hands – brush specs
of sand close to her eyes.
On her knees she digs
holes in sand to cover her
nude body, and stands as
small pieces of color shine
like a burst of sun.
The ocean spins her,
throws her to her left, then
backward – she lost her
resting place.
The morning moon lingers –
slowly evaporates, spilling
colors of orange, red, and
a hint of purple.
She dances on white foam,
at a waters edge – to bring
back treasures lost.
Seagulls collect and clutter up
the shore, above scattered
mounds of seaweed, breathing.
She too dances over
litter-strewn through seaweed,
but a rising tide will take
away her space, as her eyes
watch when birds disappear.
She continues to search for
lost treasures, but – sand has
fallen through her fingers . . .
Inside – near her open window,
on a metal stand – a piece
of ice shrinks,
breaking the silence.
A clock – large enough to see,
a sink to wash, a tub
to bathe; with help, she
knows it’s Wednesday.
She hears the hiss of a
sprinkler, and two voices
laugh in the distance –
Her feet push, to keep her
rocker, rocking.
Sunlight –
wraps around her face,
kissing her lips – blue eyes
shed tears, her white
hair glitters…. as if it were
water mixed with sand –
on a beach, she hums,
smiles –
resisting tomorrow. . .
She captures light, traps it
between her thin fingers, rubs
her face as if sand left precise
pebbles from the wind.
Has wind taken her space?
Her eyes watch when birds
disappear.
She continues to search for
lost treasures, but – sand
falls through her fingers –
Inside near her open window,
on a metal stand, a single piece
of ice shrinks, keeping silence
away – as a clock – large
enough for her to see, and
a sink to wash, a tub to bathe
fills her space.
She knows, with help it’s
Wednesday.
She hears the hiss of a
sprinkler, and two voices
laugh in the distance – her
feet continue to rock her
rocker.
Sunlight,
wraps around her face,
kissing her lips – blue eyes
shed tears, her white
hair glitters – specs of
white catch sunlight, as
she hums, smiles a familiar
tune…
resisting tomorrow.
She captures light, traps it
between her thin fingers, rubs
her face as if light was sand
pebbles left by the wind.
At noon, the smell of meatloaf,
instead of soiled sheets.
Her finger press a button
a red light flashes.
The thud of silverware
hitting plastic plates, a crumpled
napkin in her hand, forgetting
to wipe her face.
Nearby, a black crow lands
on the limb of a maple, drags
the limb downward.
She dances on the lawn
and as black crows fly.
Then – next Monday, birds
gathered to rest – outside
her window ledge.
The writing was excellent by any standards. The words grip the heart like a vise and don’t let go until the end of the poem. This is an extrememly gifted artist who I sincerely hope will stay with it. definitelyu 5 stars..
Nancy,
The ending caught me unaware. Very beautiful and haunting words.
5 STARS! This is the most awe inspiring piece of art I have yet to see before my very own eyes. A masterpiece and a work of art, as is Mrs. Denofio. Baring her soul to dance in shades of spledid colors among many of an audience, Mrs, Denofio stands tall among a poetic piece of majestic beauty. I look forward to seeing more of Mrs/ Denofio’s work in the future on this site.
All The Best, Meg Collins
A poem to all who know the bell, having heard the ring of silence. Beautiful!
In my last comment I meant to give the poet more stars. So I am reposting this comment. I loved the poem and felt it was a beautiful expression of the progression of a woman’s life.
Beautiful poetry. You certainly have a way with words!
I’ll be keeping an eye on your work from now on.
Cheers Nancy,
Bev
Wow…this is like a rare painting…simply beautiful and seductive actually.
Thank you everyone for reading “Dancing In the Sunlight” and thank you Angie for the wonderful art you placed with the poetry, it complimented it so beautifully. Thanks – one and all.
Sincerely, Nancy
I love the shift to reality: “She knows with help it’s Wednesday.” Even though I come out of the dream world into the real one,I don’t completely lose the dream world. I like the combination of the two in the last part of the poem. Beautiful description.
5 stars
Wow I missed your comment awhile back. Guess I post too many – but I agree beginning to fall back and then jump forward, knowing the day of the week. How interesting. Thanks so much, Nancy