Starting with the bag
Each necessary object
Tucked in its own place
Socks, shoes, knickers, cord
Glove, cups, jacket, sleeve, lamé
Foils in their sheaths
Bombing down the road
Music blasting, joy unleashed
Anticipation
Tackling the stairs
Pulse springs at muted clash of
Coruscating blades
Who am I tonight?
Bold, clever, swift? More often
Hesitant and scared
Either one affords
A priceless chance to practice
Seeking for myself
Wandering with wise,
Strong, generous companions
Satisfied at heart
Afterwards, descent
Walking into clear dark night
Stars shine, unimpressed
This is what I have
A blank page, a lifting heart
And best, a fresh start
No comments:
Post a Comment