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Poem

The sun fades away behind the horizon
And all is still, the in-between time.
All is quiet, as though lying in wait….
And then there is a stiff, sudden movement.
Slender, twig like fingers grasp the earth
And strain as the rest follows upward, through soil.
Dark, empty sockets gaze around, soaking in moonlight.
And then, under the shining full moon, a dance begins.
A single violin plays, lively notes awakening others
And soon the entire field is full of figures,
All dancing in their own ways, and a clacking
Sound is heard whenever they touch each other.
The violinist continues, grinning all the while
As everyone dances, leaping and twirling in the air.
No one disturbs the dancers, for if they did,
They would be enticed into dancing as well, forever.
There would be no return, as other dancers could tell.
And so, on and on goes the dance, and all the while
The pale, ghostly moon resides over them all.
The song has woven among every dancer,
With strands of Sorrow and Joy, and even Love.
New friends are made, yet words are a thing forgotten.
But then, suddenly, there comes a cry of warning.
The Song slows, and figures slowly stop and
Begin to shuffle back towards their lowly homes.
For there is the bright Sun, peeking its head
Up and over the mountains, finger like rays of light
Reaching and greedily turning all back into soil.
Because now it is daytime, and during the day
The Danse Macabre cannot be, not until night
At full moon, on the night when skeletons
Walk and dance as they did in life.

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