The Dancers
They danced the song of merry men
Who played the distant drums,
Evading the catching firelight
Until the morning comes.
The jingle of the coins on silk
Could near and far be found,
And dust blew up in moving air
By a dozen feet on ground.
The ringing of their cymbals
Echoes far and wide,
Bringing out in movement
What they all now feel inside.
Veils caught up in the twirling dance,
A spiral toward the sky;
The sounds of ancient music
Floats to where the sleeping lie.
Mysticized and spellbound,
The dark the dawning takes;
And they dance into the sunrise
As the silent morning breaks.
Copyright 2001 Caitlin Carlson
