The Dance

It is cool

and Soft

in the morning grass.

We dance

a beakless circle

we make wild

with our hands.

The emerald lit

inopportune

glide over the lawn.

We touch as

near all the flowers

grow.

Ah, there’s for us

a breath before

we step into morning,

and with twinkling

sorrows, share

a fragrant cloud that rising enters

shall stand on the hill.

Sweet beneath the sun.

I am coming now!

and the world is wide

and green!

Will you be?

then there is no

doubt of what will

be in our steps.

Let me learn

to sing together down in the field!

• William Carlos Williams