Despite new shoes, I continue to walk worn paths,
to revel in familiar reels, tried and true two-steps,
heel to toe, apace with my own stride, the earth
pushes away with each tendon’s flex, en pointe,
pas de un, atilt arabesque, low to the ground,
homage to the sky, frequent pirouettes
braced at the knee, a dervish, a devilish imp
with an ancient glint of sun, nay stars, in her eyes.

Chagall 2017

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