How anxious I am to venture outside
where the sunshine and tips of branches meet,
a junction I marvel at every eve,
so perfectly made for one another

Timeless shadow upon a serrate edge,
one more night of cooled green summer Moondance,
a gavotte in darkness, low to the ground,
spring at hand – the long muscled run of calves

I love how the air turns colder at dark,
travels the body braced to pique more life,
a cold draught carves all my inside hollow,
blue starlight hidden in tall wept willows

Soaring above the tree-line, looking down,
the ground rushes up to meet me, swoops by,
I lean and I yaw, I out-maneuver,
veiled in smoke of my making, I vanish

Nose-up I have sometimes stalled and backslid,
reversed, a tail crash-landing position
I invert at the very last minute
saving the crowd and me from injury

Chagall 2019

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