walking not dancing
she followed the sandy path
through conifers to an iron gate
and into the stable yard
where all the stalls were empty
and all the boxes barred
and a watcher lay in the corner
tethered to a stake in the ground
and the sun struck through the heavens
and flashed across the earth
and the minutes turned to hours
but the watcher never stirred
till the sun went down at evening
and cool became the earth
and dancing not walking
she returned
[first posted 5 July 2013 – after a line from Iris Murdoch’s novel The Bell and written for a dancing daughter]
