Love Is A Dance

I am the antonym of graceful

Not silky like ballet slippers

Intricate like mehendi

Or as smooth as a sari


But this new dance

Of the language of the trees

the soft envelope of a touch

the sizzle of wind past bamboo

past me

I can’t breathe


No, the trees speak

This dance is not kept

It belongs to the ants

To the old man’s feet

To the whistles of the grass


There are no steps to this dance

No beating of the drum

No lessons

No slippers

Beautiful on itself

I found the Dance

It’s Love