Beneath heaven's vault
remember always walking
through halls of cloud
down aisles of sunlight
or through high hedges
of the green rain
walk in the world
highheeled with swirl of cape
hand at the swordhilt
of your pride
Keep a tall throat
Remain aghast at life
Enter each day
as upon a stage
lighted and waiting
for your step
Crave upward as flame
have keenness in the nostril
Give your eyes
to agony or rapture
Train your hands
as birds to be
brooding or nimble
Move your body
as the horses
sweeping on slender hooves
over crag and prairie
with fleeing manes
and aloofness of their limbs
Take earth for your own large room
and the floor of earth
carpeted with sunlight
and hung round with silver wind
for your dancing place
May Swenson, Earth Your Dancing Place
remember always walking
through halls of cloud
down aisles of sunlight
or through high hedges
of the green rain
walk in the world
highheeled with swirl of cape
hand at the swordhilt
of your pride
Keep a tall throat
Remain aghast at life
Enter each day
as upon a stage
lighted and waiting
for your step
Crave upward as flame
have keenness in the nostril
Give your eyes
to agony or rapture
Train your hands
as birds to be
brooding or nimble
Move your body
as the horses
sweeping on slender hooves
over crag and prairie
with fleeing manes
and aloofness of their limbs
Take earth for your own large room
and the floor of earth
carpeted with sunlight
and hung round with silver wind
for your dancing place
May Swenson, Earth Your Dancing Place
There is an original Poetry Thursday offering here.
6 comments:
May Swenson! How splendid to come across her work, and the image of the forest floor debris and decay, such a platform for this kind of dancing. Thank you.
It has many times been my dancing place.
My dear,
This poem by May Swenson, is so wonderful. It is my first for her, thank you.
I just love it. Every single blog of yours is worth a look and a read.
Love the dancing leaves...
Louise
The tiny cones in your picture are not much bigger than the Sitka spruce cones that I've been sweeping off my stairs the last couple of weeks. Lovely things.
This is such a beautiful photograph and the poem is lovely too, I can 'see' the swirling cape, the sunshine, a fine white horse and the forest floor as I read it.
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