The Dance

I

not about to die
but rising

for the first time into
this breathing

not the waltz
nor the tango
but

unashamed, free

with no fears of
interruption

as the trees dance
in the woods
or

the wind’s invitation.

II

a sense of
joyful giving

and receiving

that I have not known
before.

III

how we sing
how we dance

like the twigs
that touch the surface
of the lake

in so many patterns

under the sun

and my mother moves
to the dance

as if caught in its open
grim jest.

• William Carlos Williams