Twisting - the Dancer Spins

TWISTING THE DANCER SPINS Twisting the dancer spins into the mist of the night, to his own tune This unearthly spectre gracefully dances, lit by the light of the moon Softly his leather-clad soles play skilfully onto the moisten moss beneath Night animals stop to stare of this dancing spectre to them he bequeath Their little clicks of approval seemed only to add to the body of the tune As this unearthly spectre; dances in the mist, lit by the light of the moon He makes his way through the trees, still dancing, as he reaches the leith Across the wooden bridge into the mist, he disappears beyond the heath Gazing into the mist you still imagine him there, still dancing to his own tune He is one of nature’s own loons who only dances, lit by the light of the moon Indiana Shaw . . . ; )